UC-NRLF 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


Education 


GIFT  OF 


Louise  Farrow  Barr 


LITTLE  MARJORIE'S  LOVE-STORY 


LITTLE   MARJORIE'S 
LOVE-STORY 

BY 

MARGUERITE   BOUVET 
3EUu0tratrt 

BY  HELEN  MAITLAND  ARMSTRONG 


CHICAGO 

A.    C.    McCLURG   AND    COMPANY 
1891 


COPYRIGHT, 
BY  A.  C.  MCCLURG  AND  Co. 

A.  D.  1891. 

All  rigJits  reserved. 


Education 
GIFT 


MARJORIE    SAT   NEAR   AT   HIS    FEET 
LOOKING  AT  HIM." 


LITTLE 


r,  LOVE   STORY' 


EEEN-AAITLAND-MASTROI 
A-D 


LIBR« 


"Life,  I  repeat,  is  energy  of  love, 
Divine  or  human ;  exercised  in  pain, 
In  strife  and  tribulation,  and  ordained, 
If  so  approved  and  sanctified,  to  pass 
Through  shades  and  silent  rest,  to  endless  joy." 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

"HER  PRETTY  MAMMA" 15 

"  HE  WAS  ALWAYS  SMILING  AND  COOING  AT  HIS 

LITTLE  SISTER" 17 

MARJORIE   AND   HER   BABY-BROTHER 21 

"SHE  ONLY  LAID  HER  THIN  WHITE  HAND  ON  THE 
LITTLE  GIRL'S  CHEEK  AND  SAID,  '  POOR  LITTLE 

SOUL!'" 25 

"THEY  STILL   PLAYED  TOGETHER    IN  THE   LITTLE 

GARDEN"      . 35 

"IN  THE  SPRING,  WHEN  THE  DAYS  WERE  WARM 
AND  LOVELY,  THEY  SPENT  THE  MORNINGS 
TOGETHER  ON  THE  SHORES  OF  THE  PRETTY 

LAKE" 41 

"WHO  IS  THIS  SINGING  AT  MY  GATES  UNBIDDEN, 

WITH  A  VOICE  LIKE  THAT  OF  A  SERAPH"     .       57 

MONSEIGNEUR 65 

"  HIS  FRESH  YOUNG  VOICE  RANG  OUT  AND  FILLED 

THE  GREAT  HALL  WITH   ITS  SWEETNESS"  67 


12  List  of  Illustrations. 


PAGE 

"SHE  SAW  BEAUTIFUL  LADIES  SPEAK  TO  HIM"  .  71 
"  MARJORIE  SAT  NEAR  AT  HIS  FEET  LOOKING  AT 

HIM" 77 

"THE  LITTLE  WORLD  SHE  WAS  LEAVING  BEHIND 

SLEPT  QUIETLY" 95 

THE  CATHEDRAL  TOWER 105 

GERALD 112 

"SEEING  NOTHING  BUT  THAT  BELOVED  FACE, 

HEARING   NOTHING    BUT    THE    ECHO  OF    HIS 

MUSIC  IN  HER  HEART" 115 

"IT  IS  TOO  LATE"  .  123 


LITTLE  MARJORIES  LOVE-STORY. 


CHAPTER    I. 


WAS  always  called  Little 
Marjorie  in  the  pretty  village 
where  they  lived.  Perhaps  it 
was  because  she  was  such  a 
frail  and  delicate  little  girl  that 
she  still  lives  in  the  memory  of  those  who 
knew  her  as  a  little  child.  But  although 
Marjorie  never  grew  to  be  a  woman,  there 
was  in  her  life  the  one  thing  that  makes 
people  great ;  and  that  is  loving  some  one 
better  than  one's  self.  There  was  in  her 
heart  the  strong  pure  love  that  has  made 
heroes  in  the  great  world;  and  in  her 
short  years  she  experienced  the  sorrows 


H        Little  Marjories  Love -Story. 

and  yearnings  of  a  life-time.  There  are 
persons  who  are  born  to  sorrow,  and  who 
have  suffering  as  their  only  heritage  here 
on  earth ;  and  yet  they  are  good  and  lov- 
ing, accepting  all  their  ills  with  a  gentle 
spirit,  and  bearing  them  with  brave  cour- 
age. It  was  just  so  with  Little  Marjorie. 
She  was  a  sweet,  hopeful  child;  she  did 
not  grieve  for  the  blessings  she  had  not, 
—  she  lived  only  to  make  others  happy. 
When  Marjorie  was  a  very  little  girl, 
she  had  lived  in  a  strange  and  distant 
country ;  and  she  had  now  only  a  dim 
remembrance  of  a  home  where  she  had 
once  been  happy  with  those  who  loved 
her,  —  a  home  that  seemed  so  fair  and 
beautiful,  as  she  looked  back  to  it  through 
her  years  of  loneliness,  that  it  appeared 
like  some  dreamy  fairyland.  She  had  but 
a  faint  recollection  of  a  handsome  young 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        15 

father  who  had  suddenly  been  taken  away 
from   them,  and   of   the   dreariness    that 


followed;  of  her  pretty  mamma  looking 
so  pale  and  sorrowful,  and  how  the  smile 
had  gone  from  her  lips,  and  the  roses 


16        Little  Marjories  Love -Story. 

died  out  of  her  cheeks,  and  how  thin 
and  worn  she  grew,  until  she  too  had 
faded  away  and  died.  But  Marjorie  re- 
membered only  too  well  that  after  all 
this  had  happened  she  was  very  misera- 
ble, and  wept  bitterly  for  many  days, 
when  she  found  that  she  was  alone  in 
the  world  with  a  little  baby-brother  scarce 
a  year  old. 

But  this  baby-brother  was  a  sweet 
comfort  to  Marjorie ;  for  he  was  a  darling 
little  child,  with  a  beautiful,  innocent  face, 
and  eyes  the  color  of  heaven.  He  was 
always  smiling  and  cooing  at  his  little 
sister,  and  looking  up  into  her  tearful 
face  with  great  inquiring  eyes,  as  if  to 
ask  why  she  was  always  sad.  Marjorie 
could  not  tell  him.  He  was  too  little  to 
know  what  had  happened,  or  to  under- 
stand what  a  great  loss  had  just  come 


HE   WAS   ALWAYS   SMILING   AND  COOING  AT  HIS  LITTLE   SISTER.' 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        19 

to  them  both.  And  so  he  prattled  on  in 
his  sweet  little  voice,  and  frolicked  about 
in  the  sunlit  fields  like  a  gay  butterfly; 
and  as  long  as  he  had  his  "sweet 
Marjorie"  with  him,  and  could  run  up 
and  smile  at  her,  and  lay  his  little  head 
in  her  lap  when  he  grew  tired,  he  was 
quite  happy. 

One  day  —  Marjorie  never  quite  knew 
how  it  came  about  —  they  found  them- 
selves in  a  pretty  village  of  France.  It  was 
a  very  strange  place  to  them ;  but  it  was 
a  beautiful  little  village,  and  Marjorie  felt 
that  she  would  love  it,  for  she  loved  all 
that  was  beautiful.  There  were  high 
mountains  sheltering  it  on  one  side,  and 
on  the  other  the  waters  of  a  deep-blue 
lake  laughed  and  sparkled  in  the  sunlight, 
and  wrapped  themselves  about  the  little 
town  like  fond  protecting  arms.  It  was 


20       Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

early  summer,  and  the  air  was  filled  with 
the  songs  of  the  birdlings,  and  laden 
with  the  first  breath  of  the  flowers.  The 
fields  and  the  mountains  were  green, 
and  the  lake  and  the  sky  were  blue, 
and  the  gold  sunlight  fell  over  it  all  so 
peacefully  that  Little  Marjorie  was  almost 
happy. 

They  lived  in  a  pretty  cottage  close  to 
the  foot  of  the  mountain;  and  all  sum- 
mer long  its  roof  and  porches  were  cov- 
ered with  wild  vines,  and  tall  green 
poplars  kept  watch  around  it  like  faithful 
sentinels.  There  was  a  little  garden,  too, 
and  a  little  garden  gate  with  sweet-brier 
climbing  over  it,  —  a  delightful  little 
swinging  gate,  where  Gerald  and  Marjorie 
loved  to  stand  and  watch  the  country 
people  in  their  gay  caps,  going  by  to 
the  market-place.  The  house  was  a  very 


MARJORIE   AND  HER   BABY-BROTHER. 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        23 

little  house,  and  everything  in  it  was 
little  from  Marjorie  and  her  baby-brother 
to  Mademoiselle  herself  who  lived  with 
them.  Mademoiselle  was  a  strange  little 
lady  indeed.  She  seldom  spoke  to  any 
one,  and  no  smile  ever  lighted  her  pretty 
face.  She  had  a  young  face ;  but  her  hair 
was  very  white,  and  her  eyes  were  sad 
with  weeping.  Marjorie  wondered  why 
it  was  so,  and  why  Mademoiselle  was 
always  dressed  in  black.  She  did  not 
know  that  Mademoiselle  mourned  for  a 
great  loss  day  and  night,  and  year  and 
year;  that  her  heart  was  desolate.  She 
did  not  know  that  when  Mademoiselle 
was  a  very  young  girl  she  had  loved 
Marjorie's  papa,  and  that  he  had  gone 
far  away,  promising  to  come  back  for  her 
in  a  year;  that  when  the  ^ear  was  gone 
something  had  happened,  and  Mademoi- 


24        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

selle  had  shut  herself  up  in  the  little 
cottage,  and  vowed  that  she  would  live 
alone  always,  and  never  love  a  thing  or 
creature  any  more.  But  the  people  of 
the  village  remembered  it  all  very  well, 
and  they  pitied  her  when  they  thought 
what  a  bright,  happy  girl  she  had  once 
been.  Yet  when  she  heard  of  these  two 
little  souls  left  alone  in  that  strange, 
distant  country,  her  heart  was  softened,  — 
for  the  sorrows  of  others  sometimes  make 
us  grow  kinder,  —  and  she  went  after 
Marjorie  and  the  baby  Gerald,  and  brought 
them  home  with  her. 

When  she  saw  the  comely  boy,  with 
his  sweet  face  and  innocent  smile  and 
his  great  soft  eyes,  she  felt  a  strange  cold 
ache  about  her  heart.  She  took  him  in 
her  arms,  and  touched  her  lips  to  his 
forehead,  and  called  him  a  little  angel 


1 X^ 


\ 


"SHE   ONLY   LAID   HER   THIN   WHITE   HAND  ON   THE   LITTLE    GIRL'S   CHEEK 
AND   SAID,  '  POOR   LITTLE    SOUL  !  '  ' 


Little  Marjories  Love -Story.        27 

from  heaven ;  for  Gerald  had  his  father's 
blue  eyes,  and  Mademoiselle  had  loved 
blue  eyes  dearly.  But  when  she  looked  at 
Marjorie  —  poor,  frail,  little  Marjorie  — 
she  did  not  kiss  her ;  for  Marjorie  had  her 
mother's  dark  eyes,  and  Mademoiselle  did 
not  love  dark  eyes.  She  only  laid  her 
thin  white  hand  on  the  little  girl's  cheek, 
and  said  "  Poor  little  soul !  " 

Marjorie  remembered  it  always,  —  that 
cold,  cheerless  greeting.  She  wondered 
secretly  why  it  was  that  no  one  ever 
said  pretty  things  to  her,  but  always 
"Poor  little  soul!"  Perhaps  it  was 
because  she  was  so  different  from  her 
handsome  little  brother.  He  was  full  of 
life  and  beauty  and  color,  and  his  little 
face  was  like  a  living  flower.  He  had 
long  silken  curls  the  color  of  gold,  and 
his  eyes  were  like  deep  violets.  His 


28        Little  Marjorie's  Love -Story. 

voice  was  sweet  and  ringing,  and  his 
laugh  was  always  merry;  and  he  seemed 
to  carry  with  him  only  sunshine  and 
happiness. 

But  Little  Marjorie  had  not  even  the 
beauty  of  youth  in  her  face.  She  was 
white  and  thin,  and  her  large  eyes  were 
full  of  sadness,  -  -  a  strange,  expectant 
sadness,  as  if  she  saw  the  future  ahead, 
and  saw  too  that  it  held  no  joy  for  her. 
There  are  eyes  like  Marjorie's,  plenty  of 
them  in  the  world,  —  eyes  that  seem  to 
reflect  the  yearnings  of  the  whole  human 
race ;  young  eyes  that  tell  of  tears  unwept, 
and  hopes  forever  lost.  Marjorie's  eyes 
had  her  short  history  written  in  them. 
When  she  looked  up  there  was  a  world 
of  pathos  in  that  dark,  tender  gaze,  so 
that  one  fell  to  pitying  her  without  know- 
ing why. 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        29 

Poor  little  Marjorie !  She  was  not  long 
in  finding  out  what  to  her  seemed  a  great 
misfortune,  —  the  misfortune  of  having 
no  beauty.  She  had  a  keen,  sensitive 
nature  to  make  her  realize  it,  to  make 
her  feel  that  every  word  and  look  she 
got  was  one  of  cruel  pity;  and  because 
of  her  tender  years  she  reasoned  as  the 
young  in  sorrow  do.  She  had  not  learned 
that  there  is  a  beauty  which  surpasses 
all  human  loveliness,  —  the  beauty  of  an 
earnest,  loving  soul,  to  possess  which  is 
to  be  eternally  blessed.  Marjorie  did  not 
know  in  how  great  a  measure  she  pos- 
sessed this  blessing;  few  people  did,  un- 
til after  the  short  course  of  her  life  and 
love  was  run.  She  only  knew  that  she 
had  lost  the  one  thing  that  seemed  to 
endear  her  little  brother  to  her,  and  to 
all  who  looked  upon  him. 


30        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

"No  one  loves  me,"  she  would  say  to 
herself,  "because  I  am  sad  and  ugly! 
No  one  loves  me  but  the  dear  baby, 
and  perhaps  he  too  will  know  some  day 
-  and  then  -  '  And  she  would  cover  her 
face  with  her  hands,  and  sob  and  cry 
bitterly. 

But  nearly  always  at  such  times,  the 
little  Gerald  would  run  up  to  her,  and 
put  his  little  arms  about  her  neck,  and 
kiss  her  so  tenderly,  and  talk  to  her  so 
sweetly  in  his  baby  way  that  Marjorie 
would  scold  herself  for  being  foolish, 
and  promise  him  that  she  would  never 
cry  again  as  long  as  she  had  him  to 
comfort  her.  But  she  did,  oh,  so  many, 
many  times  as  the  years  followed  one 
another,  and  the  cherished  brother  grew 
out  of  babyhood  and  beyond  the  pale  of 
her  tender  love. 


Little  Marjories  Love -Story.       31 

It  was  in  these  lonely  days  that  Mar- 
jorie  bred  and  nurtured  the  love  for  her 
little  brother  that  makes  her  simple  life 
eloquent,  and  that  is  a  love  so  true  and 
pure  and  beautiful  that  there  is  none  other 
like  it  in  all  the  world.  His  sweet  inno- 
cence, his  helplessness,  his  childish  faith 
in  her,  and  above  all  his  wonderful  beauty 
appealed  to  all  that  was  truest  and  ten- 
derest  in  her  nature;  and  she  responded 
to  it  with  the  ardor  of  a  young  and 
solitary  heart. 


CHAPTER    II, 


—  and  it  is  surpris- 
ing how  soon  this  change 
'  ?'  takes  place  —  the  little  boy  grew 
amazingly  tall,  so  that  Marjorie  was  fain 
to  call  herself  his  little  sister,  instead  ;  and 
he  grew  so  wise  and  knowing  that  Mar- 
jorie often  pretended  to  stand  in  awe  of 
him,  and  Gerald  was  very  proud  and 
pleased  with  his  new  dignity.  Young 
though  he  was,  he  had  learned  that  he 
held  the  power  to  make  others  love  and 
admire  him;  and  unconsciously  he  made 
use  of  this  power  to  gratify  his  childish 
vanity.  He  felt,  too,  that  his  sister  Mar- 


Little  Marjories  Love- Story.        33 

jorie  lived  for  him  only;  and  like  all  those 
who  are  too  freely  blessed  with  love,  he 
little  knew  the  worth  of  his  great  bless- 
ing. Too  often,  alas!  in  place  of  the 
baby  caresses  he  had  been  wont  to 
give  her,  would  he  repay  her  tender 
devotion  by  thoughtless,  unkind  words. 
He  thought  nothing  of  wounding  Little 
Marjorie's  feelings,  because  she  was  patient 
and  forgiving,  because  she  was  defence- 
less and  weak,  —  weak  in  everything  but 
her  love  for  him. 

Gerald  was  still  the  same  beautiful 
child,  with  handsome  features  and  radiant 
eyes  that  charmed  every  one.  His  art- 
less grace,  his  childish  yet  imperious 
ways,  his  fresh,  delightful  voice  carried 
with  it  a  sort  of  subtle  enchantment, 
which  made  it  impossible  for  one  not 
to  be  fond  of  him.  Marjorie  worshipped 

3 


34        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

his  every  act,  and  was  happy  only  in  serv- 
ing him.  True,  it  was  but  a  sensitive, 
uncertain  pleasure,  that  very  little  often 
changed  to  pain  ;  for  Marjorie  loved  Gerald 
blindly,  unreasonably,  perhaps,  with  the 
youthful  passion  that  knows  no  guidance 
or  restraint.  But  it  is<  possible  —  thank 
Heaven !  —  to  love  unwisely  and  to  have 
sublime  feelings  withal;  to  recognize  in 
those  who  are  dear  to  us  only  the  fair  vir- 
tues that  have  enslaved  our  hearts,  and  in 
the  end  to  be  made  wiser  and  nobler  by  the 
lesson  of  patience  and  self-sacrifice.  And 
childish  love  is  such  a  simple  thing,  and 
yet  so  powerful  that  all  things  evil  must 
vanish  from  the  heart  where  it  abides. 

As  they  grew  older  Little  Marjorie  be- 
came conscious  of  a  new  influence  that 
had  come  over  Gerald,  —  a  vague,  inde- 
scribable something  that  seemed  to  be 


THEY    STILL   PLAYED  TOGETHER   IN  THE   LITTLE   GARDEN." 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        37 

drawing  him  away  from  her  and  trans- 
forming him  into  a  strange,  fanciful  boy, 
with  great  ideas  of  doing  something 
wonderful  in  the  world,  and  with  such 
improbable  hopes  and  dreams  that  she 
was  often  troubled.  They  still  played 
together  in  the  little  garden,  and  talked 
together  under  the  shadow  of  the  tall 
elms,  or  wandered  out  in  the  quiet 
wooded  lanes,  as  in  the  days  of  their 
babyhood ;  but  Gerald  was  divided  from 
Marjorie  by  a  barrier  of  dreams;  and 
even  while  they  walked  hand  in  hand 
she  felt  that  she  was  alone,  that  he 
was  living  quite  apart,  with  a  soft  misty 
veil  barring  her,  and  indeed,  every  one 
else,  from  his  fair,  beatified  world. 

For  a  long  time  they  lived  in  this  quiet 
lonely  way,  how  long  Marjorie  could  not 
say;  but  it  seemed  a  brief  enough  period 


38        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

to  her  when  she  looked  back  to  it  in 
less  happy  days,  and  remembered  it  as 
the  sweetest  time  in  her  life,  and  blessed 
it.  For  then  she  had  her  darling  always 
with  her,  and  his  presence  was  the  dearest 
joy  of  her  life.  The  thought  of  being 
parted  from  Gerald  had  never  come  to 
her.  She  could  not  fancy  what  her  life 
would  be  without  him.  In  all  their 
dreams  of  the  future, —  and  Gerald's 
were  great  and  many,  —  he  had  always 
spoken  of  her.  She  should  be  near 
him ;  she  should  have  a  share  in  all  his 
good  fortunes;  she  should  be  great  in 
his  greatness;  she  should  have  cause  to 
be  proud  of  him,  for  he  meant  to  be 
powerful  and  wealthy  and  all  that  makes 
men  happy  in  this  world.  And  Mar- 
jorie  —  faithful,  trusting,  Little  Marjorie 
—  lived  in  that  flitting  hope,  and  in  the 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        39 

assurance  that  whatever  Gerald  might  be 
to  the  world  he  would  never  be  to  her 
but  a  generous,  affectionate  brother. 

In  the  spring,  when  the  days  were 
warm  and  lovely,  they  spent  the  morn- 
ings together  on  the  shores  of  the  pretty 
lake.  It  was  quiet  and  lonely  there;  and 
they  seemed  to  find  something  genial  in 
the  calm,  changeable  beauty  of  the  blue 
waters.  They  could  talk  or  think  as  was 
their  mood;  they  could  listen  to  the 
murmur  of  the  waves  as  they  came  lap- 
ping up  on  the  shining  sand,  and  fancy 
that  they  were  saying  all  sorts  of  pleas- 
ant things,  or  perhaps  sad  things,  if  the 
day  was  a  dark  one.  They  watched  the 
distant  boats,  with  their  white  sails  mov- 
ing beneath  a  canopy  of  gilded  clouds; 
and  their  thoughts,  each  so  different, 
wandered  out  to  that  land  of  purple 


40       Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

mystery,  which  children  see  in  a  fair 
horizon.  Gerald  looked  upon  it  as  a 
vision  of  his  future, —  that  future  which 
held  so  much  for  him ;  and  his  fancies 
would  take  such  wayward  flights  that 
often  Little  Marjorie  could  not  keep  pace 
with  them.  It  was  then  more  than  ever 
that  she  was  filled  with  that  strange  new 
thought,  and  became  oppressed  with  a 
vague  dread  that  something,  she  knew 
not  what,  was  separating  her  from  the 
brother  she  loved.  Sometimes,  too,  these 
sad  misgivings  were  confirmed  by  a  care- 
less or  unkind  word  or  an  angry  look, 
which  meant  nothing  to  him  when  it 
was  given  and  forgotten,  but  which  sank 
deep  into  her  troubled  soul,  and  would 
not  be  effaced. 

Gerald  was  full  of  moods ;  yet  he  could 
not  bear  that  Marjorie  should  indulge  in 


IN  THE   SPRING,   WHEN  THE   DAYS  WERE   WARM   AND  LOVELY,  THEY  SPENT 
THE  MORNINGS  TOGETHER  ON  THE   SHORES  OF  THE  PRETTY  LAKE." 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        43 

any  mood  that  was  not  his  own.  If  she 
was  sad  and  anxious,  he  would  often 
mistake  her  thoughts,  and  grow  fretful 
and  restless,  and  upbraid  her  for  being 
such  ill  company. 

"  Why  don't  you  talk  and  laugh  with 
me,  Marjorie  ?  "  he  would  ask,  impatient- 
ly. "  It  is  so  lonely  and  dreadful  in  this 
place,  I  wonder  you  do  not  do  something 
to  amuse  me." 

"  I  will,  dear,  I  will  do  anything  to 
please  you,  if  you  will  tell  me  what." 

"  Tell  you  what !  just  as  if  I  knew. 
I  don't  care  what,  only  don't  sit  there 
looking  so  cross  and  solemn.  You  don't 
look  pretty  when  you  do." 

"I  am  not  cross,  Gerald;  you  know 
I  should  never  be  cross  with  you," 
and  Marjorie  would  smile  at  him 
sweetly. 


44        Little  Marjories  Love -Story. 

"That  is  what  you  always  say;  but 
you  are  cross,  Marjorie,  and  ugly  some- 
times, and  I  don't  love  you,  and  I  shall 
not  let  you  come  and  live  with  me  when 
I  am  a  man." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that ;  you  would  never 
be  unkind  to  me,  Gerald!  Everything 
will  be  different  when  you  are  a  man; 
you  will  be  great,  and  I  shall  be  too 
happy  ever  to  look  sad." 

Then  Gerald  would  look  better  pleased, 
and  would  add,  in  a  half  playful,  half 
earnest  tone,- 

"But  you  are  not  beautiful,  Mar- 
jorie; you  will  never  be  beautiful  like 
me." 

"  I  do  not  know  why  it  is,  except  that 
no  one  is  so  beautiful  as  you,  1  think. 
But  you  will  always  love  me,  dear,  just 
as  much  ?  " 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        45 

"  I  would  love  you  better  if  you  were 
beautiful." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  would  not,  for  beautiful 
people  are  not  always  good,  Gerald;  but 
you  are  beautiful  and  good;  you  will 
always  be  beautiful  and  good  to  me/' 

"  Yes,  I  will  be  good  to  you,  Marjorie," 
and  Gerald  would  look  at  her  with  a 
little  air  of  condescension  and  majesty; 
and  then  she  would  throw  her  arms 
about  his  neck,  and  smile  at  him  with 
such  a  tender  light  in  her  eyes  that  his 
childish  heart  would  be  conquered,  and 
he  would  kiss  her,  forgetting  that  she 
was  not  beautiful,  and  tell  her  that  she 
was  his  dear  Marjorie  still. 

But  as  time  went  on  these  little  scenes 

between  them  grew  more  frequent  and 

more  serious;   and  Marjorie  would  think 

,  long  and  sadly  over  them  when  she  was 


46        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

left  alone,  and  she  would  ask  herself 
what  it  was  that  barred  her  out  of  the 
world  in  which  her  darling  lived.  Mar- 
jorie's  sphere  of  comparison  was  small ; 
but  she  knew  very  well  that  Gerald  was 
fair  to  look  upon,  that  there  was  a  magic 
charm  in  his  childish  face,  which  made 
people  turn  to  look  at  him,  and  stop  to 
listen  to  the  ineffable  sweetness  of  his 
simple  songs.  She  knew  that  he  had  the 
gift  and  power  to  draw  people  to  him, 
while  she  had  nothing,  —  nothing  but  a 
heart  full  of  love  to  pour  out  for  very  need 
of  love.  And  sometimes  when  her  little 
soul  grew  weary  with  doubt,  she  would 
go  to  Mademoiselle  and  ask  to  be  com- 
forted; for  Marjorie  was  a  very  young 
and  very  human  little  child,  and  the  young 
have  need  of  sympathy.  But  Mademoi- 
selle could  give  no  comfort;  she  herself 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        47 

had  found  none  in  life.  She  had  lost  the 
most  precious  thing  on  earth, — the  only 
thing  that  gladdens  a  whole  life;  and 
her  heart  was  like  a  cold  and  barren  land 
upon  which  the  sunlight  never  falls. 

Gerald  knew  nothing  of  the  thoughts 
that  troubled  his  little  sister  Marjorie, 
of  the  tearful  hours  caused  by  his  heed- 
less care  of  her.  He  was  full  of  himself, 
of  his  own  thoughts  and  hopes,  proud 
of  his  beauty ;  and  above  all  he  was  con- 
scious of  the  rare  gift  which  he  possessed, 
-the  gift  of  a  heavenly  voice.  He  lived 
in  the  certainty  that  sometime  through 
this  gift  he  would  rise  out  of  himself 
into  the  realms  of  his  beloved  fancy. 
Gerald,  notwithstanding  his  human  faults 
and  weaknesses,  had  in  his  nature  that 
spark  of  divinity  which  is  called  genius. 
Hence  what  was  all  the  rest  to  him  ?  To 


48        Little  Marjories  Love -Story. 

live  always  in  the  little  village,  to  sing 
for  Mademoiselle,  and  to  be  rewarded 
with  one  of  her  rare  smiles,  to  be  loved 
by  little  Marjorie  was  a  kindly  fate,  per- 
haps, for  one  with  quieter  hopes;  but  for 
Gerald,  there  was  something  beyond  this, 
-a  life  of  triumph  and  glory,  the  very 
thought  of  which  filled  him  with  a  name- 
less joy.  In  that  lonely  childhood,  Gerald 
was  not  unhappy ;  he  had  the  solace  and 
refuge  of  a  great  hope.  But  little  Mar- 
jorie had  no  hope  save  in  him. 


CHAPTER   HI. 


N  the  village  where  Gerald  and 
Marjorie  lived,  there  was  an 
old  chateau  close  to  the  shore  of 
the  laughing  lake,  —  a  strange, 

gray  chateau,  whose   great  win- 
i 

dows  reflected  at  evening  the  glory  of 
the  crimson  summer  sun.  Gerald  had 
often  seen  it  so,  clothed  in  fiery  splendor, 
and  he  had  been  wont  to  look  upon  it 
as  a  sort  of  enchanted  palace,  where 
wonderful  things  might  happen.  He 
fancied  he  would  like  to  visit  the  gray 
chateau  some  time.  He  had  been  past  it 
with  Marjorie  so  many  times,  in  the 
bleak  winter  when  the  white  snow  man- 
tled its  quaint  roofs,  and  in  the  pleas- 

4 


50        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

anter  spring-time  when  the  young  vines 
clambered  up  its  walls,  and  it  had  never 
ceased  to  hold  for  him  that  weird  fasci- 
nation, which  mystery  and  antiquity  have 
for  romantic  natures.  He  had  said  to 
Marjorie  that  he  knew  some  time  he 
should  really  go  into  the  chateau,  and  it 
would  be  a  great  day  for  him.  And 
Marjorie  had  smiled  her  assent  in  his 
belief,  though  she  did  not  quite  know 
how  such  a  strange  thing  might  come 
about;  for  none  of  the  villagers  ever 
entered  the  chateau,  and  Monseigneur, 
the  only  person  who  was  known  to  live 
there,  was  such  a  grim  and  curious 
personage  that  all  the  little  children 
round  about  were  greatly  afraid  of 
him. 

Still,  upon  a  certain  afternoon,  when 
the  breath  of  summer  was  gone,  and  the 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        51 

roses  had  all  died,  and  the  trees  were, 
naked  of  their  leaves,  Gerald  and  Marjorie 
were  out  on  the  white  strand  gathering 
sea-shells  by  the  lake.  Gerald  was  silent, 
and  Marjorie  had  ceased  trying  to  amuse 
him.  It  was  one  of  his  gloomy  days ;  he 
felt  that  the  whole  world  was  dark  and 
lonely,  and  that  the  little  village  was  the 
darkest  and  loneliest  place  in  it.  He 
looked  up  and  saw  a  flight  of  autumn 
birds  winging  their  way  towards  the 
pleasant  South,  and  a  sigh  rose  to  his 
lips. 

" 1  wish  I  were  one  of  them,"  he  said ; 
"1  wish  I  were  one  of  them,  and  could 
fly  away,  away  so  far ! " 

"  And  where  would  you  go  ? "  asked 
Marjorie,  with  her  half  anxious,  half 
hopeful  look ;  "  where  would  you  like 
to  be,  dearest  ?  " 


52        Little  Marjorie' s  Love- Story. 

"  Somewhere,  anywhere  but  here.  I  am 
sick  of  this  place,  of  everything  in  it.  Do 
you  see  those  little  white  boats  yonder, 
Marjorie,  with  their  masts  rising  out  of 
the  water?  I  should  like  to  be  in  one 
of  them,  and  sail  away  to  some  unknown 
land  and  never  come  back." 

"  With  me,  Gerald,  with  me  to  go  with 
you?"  whispered  Little  Marjorie. 

"  Yes,  yes,  if  you  are  good.  I  wish  it 
were  now,  don't  you,  Marjorie?" 

"  Oh,  yes !   but  it  shall  be  some  day." 

"  Some  day  is  too  long  to  wait,"  said 
Gerald,  fretfully. 

"  We  cannot  think  of  it  yet,  love,  we 
must  not  think  of  it.  You  are  too  young ; 
we  are  both  too  young  to  go  out  alone 
into  the  world." 

"  What  a  foolish  girl  you  are,  Marjorie; 
you  do  not  know  anything  about  it. 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        53 

Great  people  are  never  too  young,  and 
they  are  never  alone.  I  shall  be  great 
some  time.  I  shall  be  the  greatest  singer 
in  all  the  world,  and  I  think  it  must  be 
soon.  And  you  may  stay  where  you 
please  if  you  are  afraid  to  trust  me." 

He  spoke  quickly,  and  there  was  a 
strange  bitterness  in  his  words,  something 
unnatural  in  a  young  voice  and  perfectly 
incompatible  with  the  angelic  fairness  of 
his  face. 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  it  is  not  that,  you  know 
it  is  not  that!"  pleaded  Marjorie.  "I 
would  go  anywhere  in  the  world  with 
you.  I  am  afraid  of  nothing  when  you 
are  near  me,  Gerald." 

"Then  don't  talk  as  if  I  were  a  baby 
and  needed  some  one  to  look  after  me, 
else  I  shall  want  to  go  away  from  you 
too." 


54        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

Marjorie  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his 
arm  and  was  silent ;  for  she  saw  the  look 
of  discontent  which  she  dreaded  gather 
slowly  over  his  brow,  and  rest  upon  it  like 
an  evil  shadow.  It  was  an  alien  look  that 
for  a  moment  eclipsed  all  the  beauty  of 
the  young  face.  Marjorie  watched  him 
sorrowfully,  but  he  took  no  more  notice 
of  her ;  he  only  walked  on  a  little  faster, 
as  if  wishing  to  be  left  alone,  and  re- 
mained long  buried  in  his  own  thoughts. 

At  length  they  neared  the  gate  of  the 
old  chateau.  Gerald  stood  for  a  moment 
gazing  at  its  gray  walls  and  peaked  chim- 
neys and  the  wreaths  of  misty  smoke 
that  enveloped  it,  making  it  look  still 
more  weird  and  ghostly.  He  sat  down 
upon  a  broken  rock  and  began  to  sing, 
while  waiting  for  Marjorie  who  had  fol- 
lowed slowly,  gathering  pretty  leaves  by 


Little  Marjories  Love- Story.       55 

the  way,  that  she  might  not  disturb  his 
mood.  But  when  she  came  nearer,  it 
was  no  longer  the  same  Gerald  who  sat 
there  with  his  head  leaning  against  the 
gray  rock,  —  the  moody,  restless  boy  who 
had  spoken  harshly  to  her  but  a  moment 
gone;  it  was  another  being,  a  creature 
from  heaven,  it  seemed,  whose  clear  voice 
rose  in  pure  melodious  notes  and  filled 
the  whole  air  about  him,  —  a  voice  that 
seemed  to  be  singing  away  the  tumult 
of  a  wayward,  troubled  soul.  Gerald 
always  sang  so  in  his  darkest  moments. 
When  his  heart  was  filled  with  vague 
longings,  when  the  unlovely  side  of  his 
nature  rose  up  in  him  and  would  not  be 
conquered,  he  would  pour  forth  all  its 
bitterness  in  one  long  burst  of  rapturous 
song  and  be  absolved.  It  was  his  prayer 
for  forgiveness.  Marjorie  stood  still  and 


56        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

listened  to  the  rich  sweet  music;  for  it 
was  then  that  Gerald  sang  with  all  the 
depth  and  strength  of  a  music-loving 
soul.  She  had  learned  that  his  music 
was  sacred ;  and  she  knew  that  the  flood 
which  came  from  his  lips  was  like  a 
healing  balm.  She  only  wondered  that 
heaven  itself  was  deaf  to  that  voice,  and 
that  it  stretched  no  hand  to  help  and 
lead  her  darling. 

It  was  very  strange.  Marjorie  never 
forgot  it:  how  she  had  scarcely  shaped 
the  thought  when  the  big  gate  of  the 
chateau  opened,  and  Monseigneur  stood 
beneath  the  gray  archway,  his  grave 
eyes  filled  with  astonishment,  looking  at 
them  both.  Little  Marjorie  would  have 
run  away  and  hidden  herself  if  she  had 
been  alone;  but  Gerald  was  afraid  of 
nothing.  She  waited  what  seemed  an 


WHO  IS  THIS   SINGING  AT  MY  GATES  UNBIDDEN,  WITH  A  VOICE  LIKE 
THAT  OF   A   SERAPH." 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.       59 

endless  time,  wondering  what  would 
happen.  And  then  she  remembered  how 
quickly  her  heart  began  to  beat  when 
she  saw  Monseigneur  actually  crossing 
the  little  path  and  coming  straightway 
toward  them. 

Gerald  was  not  startled;  he  only 
stopped  suddenly,  and  his  eyes  grew 
calm  and  beautiful  as  with  the  lingering 
sweetness  of  the  unfinished  song.  But 
Monseigneur  was  greatly  puzzled.  He 
could  not  believe  that  this  slender  boy 
before  him,  with  the  face  of  a  child,  had 
a  voice  that  had  pierced  the  thick  walls 
of  his  chateau,  and  brought  him  out  to 
listen. 

"And  who  is  this?"  he  said  at  length, 
raising  Gerald's  face  to  his ;  "  who  is  this 
singing  at  my  gates  unbidden,  with  a 
voice  like  that  of  a  seraph?'* 


60        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

Gerald  did  not  answer;  but  a  sudden 
rosiness  rushed  to  his  cheeks  as  he 
looked  up. 

"In  truth,  thou  seemest  like  one;  for 
thy  face  is  not  less  fair  than  thy  voice," 
said  Monseigneur.  "And,  pray,  who  has 
taught  thee  so  to  sing?" 

"No  one,  Monseigneur;  no  one  has 
taught  me  to  sing,"  answered  Gerald. 
"But  there  are  voices  around  me  some- 
times,—  strange,  sweet  voices  that  I  hear 
only  when  I  am  sad.  I  cannot  tell 
where  they  are,  but  I  listen  to  them,  and 
they  tell  me  I  must  sing,  that  I  must 
sing  always  to  be  happy." 

Monseigneur  looked  a  moment  in  sur- 
prise at  the  fair  fanciful  boy  talking 
dreamily  as  if  to  himself,  and  then  he 
asked  with  a  smile, — 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        61 

"And  have  thy  fairy  voices  taught 
thee  to  be  happy,  too?" 

"  No,"  returned  Gerald  with  a  soft  sigh. 
"  No  one  is  always  happy,  I  think." 

"It  is  no  matter,  if  one  can  sing  like 
thee;  for  thou  canst  sing,  my  lad,  as 
but  few  people  sing  on  earth."  And  the 
old  man's  eyes  grew  kind  as  he  laid  his 
hand  gently  on  Gerald's  head,  and  added, 
"On  my  faith,  thou  shouldst  have  a 
master." 

"  A  master  ? "  said  Gerald,  question- 
ingly.  "What  does  Monseigneur  mean?" 

"I  mean,  my  pretty  one,  that  thou 
must  go  to  the  great  city  and  be  taught 
by  a  famous  maestro  in  the  art  of  singing. 
Thy  voice  should  make  thee  great." 

Gerald's  heart  beat  quickly,  his  eyes 
grew  dark,  and  a  look  of  unspeakable  joy 
lighted  up  his  features  as  he  looked  up 


62        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

into  the  face  of  the  old  man,  and  said 
earnestly,  "Oh,  Monseigneur,  if  it  could 
only  be ! " 

There  were  times  when  the  love  of  his 
art  possessed  him,  when  Gerald's  face 
wore  an  exalted  look  that  seemed  almost 
divine,  a  quick  flash  that  for  a  second 
transformed  him  into  a  different  being. 
Monseigneur  saw  it  in  the  look  that 
followed  that  simple  childish  utterance, 
and  Gerald's  fate  was  sealed. 

It  takes  less  than  a  word,  sometimes, 
to  change  the  whole  course  of  a  life, 
less  than  a  look  to  steer  that  fragile 
bark — human  destiny — into  an  unknown 
sea,  whose  tide  we  cannot  stem.  Human 
lives  are  full  of  crises,  and  there  is  a 
strange,  mysterious  doom  that  leads  us, 
even  in  childhood,  to  choose  one  path 
from  which  we  may  never  turn  back. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HEY  walked  on,  the  old  man 
leaning  on  the  boy's  arm,  away 
from  the  gray  chiteau,  and  to- 
ward the  little  cottage;  and 
Marjorie  followed  them  in  silence, 
neither  taking  any  heed  of  her.  And 
they  talked  much  of  the  things  that 
Gerald  loved  to  hear,  —  of  the  wonderful 
things  in  the  great  city,  of  the  lads  who 
sang  at  the  cathedral,  and  how  people 
came  from  miles  around  to  hear  them, 
and  how  sometimes  they  were  sent  to 
sing  before  the  Pope  himself  at  his  great 
palace,  and  how  he  rewarded  them  with 
gold  crosses  and  large  sums  of  money. 


64        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

This  to  Gerald  seemed  the  sweetest  and 
kindliest  fate  that  could  be  bestowed  on 
any  mortal,  and  quite  compassed  his  ideas 
of  greatness.  And  Monseigneur  enjoyed 
his  eagerness  so,  and  waxed  so  earnest 
in  relating  these  things,  that  one  might 
have  thought  he  had  been  a  lad  himself, 
and  a  singer  as  well. 

But  Little  Marjorie  heard  nothing  of 
what  they  said ;  her  heart  was  filled  with 
strange  forebodings.  She  tried  to  think  of 
Gerald's  happiness,  of  the  pleasure  that 
had  brought  back  his  sweet,  alluring 
smile,  and  the  look  of  love  in  his  eyes. 
But  she  knew  that  this  look  and  this 
smile  were  not  for  her.  She  could  not 
tell  why  it  was,  but  she  felt  that  she 
had  been  suddenly  shut  out  of  all  his 
happiness,  and  she  was  more  forsaken 
than  ever. 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.       65 

For  several  days  after,  Gerald  was  in 
a  dream  of  delight,  so  that  he  quite 
forgot  to  be  cross  with  Mar- 
jorie.  Monseigneur  came  to  the 
little  cottage,  and  talked  a  long 
time  with  Mademoiselle,  and 
then  Gerald  was  called  in  and 
told  that  on  the  morrow  he 
would  sing  at  the  chateau  be- 
fore a  number  of  great  people, 
whom  Monseigneur  had  bidden 
to  come  and  hear  him.  And 
when  Monseigneur  went  from  the  door 
of  the  little  cottage,  he  turned  again 
and  kissed  Gerald  on  the  forehead,  and 
placed  a  gold  coin  in  his  hand,  the 
largest  and  brightest  that  Gerald  had 
ever  seen. 

And  then  all  Marjorie's  sad  misgivings 
had  vanished ;  for  she  knew  now  that  all 


66        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

was  well,  and  that  Heaven  had  indeed 
smiled  down  upon  the  fortunes  of  her 
darling;  and  no  one  was  so  happy  as 
she,  not  even  Gerald  himself.  Marjorie 
had  never  a  thought  for  herself,  nor  a 
joy  nor  a  hope  save  in  him;  and  the 
one  purpose  of  her  life  was  the  well- 
being  of  the  brother,  not  one  of  whose 
gifts  she  envied. 

As  Gerald  had  said,  it  was  a  great  day 
for  them,  indeed,  when  he  sang  at  the 
chateau,  and  he  looked  very  beautiful  as 
he  stood  there,  underneath  the  brilliant 
lights  of  Monseigneur's  salon,  his  fair 
face  flushed  with  expectation,  and  his 
large  soft  eyes  resting  on  the  crowd 
around  him.  Young  as  he  was,  and 
little  used  as  he  was  to  the  presence 
of  strange  and  great  people,  there  was 
no  diffidence  in  his  manner,  no  fear 


HIS  FRESH  YOUNG   VOICE  RANG  OUT  AND  FILLED  THE   GREAT 
HALL  WITH  ITS   SWEETNESS." 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.       69 

written  on  his  childish  face.  He  bore 
himself  already  like  a  master,  —  a  master 
of  a  great  art;  and  like  a  true  master 
he  was  armed  with  confidence,  the 
weapon  of  genius.  Every  one  admired 
him;  it  was  impossible  not  to  admire 
Gerald.  For  besides  his  loveliness  of 
feature  and  form,  there  was  in  his  face 
that  indescribable  charm  of  youth,  which, 
in  gifted  and  sensitive  natures,  seems  to 
outlast  all  others. 

But  when  his  fresh  young  voice  rang 
out  and  filled  the  great  hall  with  its 
sweetness,  when  all  the  listeners  pressed 
around  him  in  astonishment,  when  he 
was  applauded  and  praised  so  much  that 
the  blushes  came  thick  to  his  cheeks, 
it  was  then  that  little  Marjorie's  heart 
overflowed  with  joy  and  pride  in  him, 
-a  joy  that  made  her  forget  everything 


70        Little  Marjories  Love -Story. 

but  his  presence  and  the  great  happy 
thought  that  he  was  hers  to  love  and 
to  glory  in  always. 

Oh,  Marjorie!  our  fairest  ideal  is  but 
the  shadow  of  what  we  love  reflected 
by  our  own  fancy,  in  the  flush  of  youth 
and  hope;  it  is  but  a  flashing  dream, 
bright,  sweet,  and  full  of  comfort,  but 
followed  by  a  bitter  waking.  We  may 
not  in  this  world  behold  it  face  to  face; 
for  this  is  a  world  of  realities,  which  for 
hope  hath  no  reward,  and  for  dreams  no 
fulfilment. 

Yet  Little  Marjorie  lived  a  world  of 
happiness  in  those  few  short  moments, 
when  her  beloved  stood  there  in  all  his 
simple  grace.  She  could  only  look  at 
him;  her  heart  was  too  full  to  speak; 
but  all  that  she  might  have  said  went 
out  to  him  in  that  look  of  infinite  ten- 


SHE    SAW   BEAUTIFUL   LADIES   SPEAK  TO   HIM." 


Little  Marjories  Love -Story.       73 

derness.  She  saw  those  great  people 
rise  and  go  to  him  as  with  one  impulse. 
She  saw  beautiful  ladies  speak  to  him 
and  smile,  some  bending  down  to  kiss 
him,  and  some  caressing  his  bright  curls. 
And  Monseigneur  smiled  at  him,  too,  as 
he  had  not  smiled  at  any  one  for  many 
a  day,  and  called  him  a  glorious  lad. 
And  Gerald  sang  again  and  again  all  the 
little  simple  songs  he  knew  as  if  he  had 
been  inspired;  and  he  was  as  happy  as 
ever  people  are  at  the  dawn  of  their 
first  great  triumph. 

All  the  way  home  that  night,  as  they 
walked  together  under  the  stars,  Little 
Marjorie  was  weaving  a  golden  web  of 
fancy.  She  was  living  already  in  that 
happy  future,  which  now  seemed  very 
near,  when  Gerald  would  be  great,  when 
the  whole  world  should  know  his  name 


74        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

and  hang  on  the  spell  of  his  magic 
voice.  She  saw  him  honored  and  exalted 
and  welcomed  everywhere;  she  saw  him 
great  among  the  great.  And  in  her  simple 
heart  she  saw  him  too  smiling  down  upon 
her,  and  loving  her  through  all  his  great- 
ness. Ah!  how  many  times  afterward 
did  Marjorie  remember  that  happy,  happy 
night  and  wish  that  she  had  died  then, 
—  died  in  that  hour  when  she  was 
wrapped  in  the  mystic  veil  of  hope. 

When  they  reached  the  little  cottage, 
Gerald  and  Marjorie  sat  for  a  long  time 
before  the  fire,  thinking  of  the  great 
change  of  fortune  that  had  just  come  to 
them.  It  was  very  strange;  they  could 
scarcely  understand  it.  Only  a  few  days 
before  they  had  been  so  alone,  so  hope- 
less, and  then,  suddenly,  everything  was 
changed,  and  their  future  looked  bright 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        75 

and  promising.  To  Gerald  it  seemed  as 
if  the  dream  of  his  life  was  being  realized. 
For  just  before  they  left  the  chateau, 
—  he  and  Marjorie,  —  Monseigneur  had 
taken  him  aside  and  told  him  something 
strangely  delightful.  He  had  not  spoken 
of  it  to  Marjorie  yet ;  for  she  would  ask 
so  many  questions,  —  girls  were  such 
curious  creatures,  —  and  he  wanted  to 
enjoy  it  alone  first  of  all ;  and  he  grew  so 
excited  for  thinking  of  it  that  all  sleep 
forsook  his  eyes.  He  sat  there  silently, 
looking  into  the  yellow  flame  with  the  far- 
away dreamy  look  in  his  blue  eyes,  and  he 
smiled  a  little,  as  if  he  saw  something 
pleasant  ahead.  Marjorie  sat  near  at  his 
feet  looking  at  him,  following  his  every 
thought  with  eager  hungry  eyes,  and 
worshipping  him.  How  she  did  love 
him  that  night,  —  her  proud,  handsome 


76        Little  Marjorie' s  Love-Story. 

brother !  How  she  did  long  to  say  some- 
thing that  would  tell  him  so,  and  show 
him  how  great  she  thought  him ;  how  she 
believed  and  trusted  and  hoped  in  him ! 

But  Marjorie  had  learned,  alas!  that 
however  anxious  Gerald  was  for  the 
plaudits  of  the  great  world,  her  praise 
and  her  admiration  were  little  to  him. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  she  gave  them 
so  freely;  perhaps  because  she  was  only 
an  insignificant  little  girl, — Marjorie  could 
not  say.  But  she  knew  that  she  would 
have  given  worlds  for  a  word  of  praise 
from  him,  or  an  approving  smile. 

Yet  that  night  her  heart  was  so  full 
of  joy  that  she  could  not  leave  him  with- 
out a  tender  word. 

"Dearest  Gerald!"  she  said,  softly; 
"  you  sang  so  beautifully !  I  am  so  proud 
of  you,  and  I  love  you  so!  please,  please 


MARJORIE    SAT  NEAR   AT  HIS    FEET 
LOOKING  AT  HIM." 


Little  Marjorie' s  Love-Story.        79 

say  you  love  me  a  little,"  and  she  laid 
her  cheek  fondly  on  his  arm  and  held 
him  close. 

"Oh,  Marjorie,  don't  be  a  foolish  girl! " 
returned  Gerald,  impatiently.  "You  know 
very  well  that  I  like  you,  but  I  don't  like 
you  when  you  are  silly." 

"It  is  not  silly  for  me  to  love  you, 
Gerald." 

"But  it  is  selfish  of  you  to  trouble 
me  when  I  am  thinking.  You  always  do 
it,  Marjorie.  Now  go  away  and  leave 
me,  do!" 

"  Forgive  me,  dear,  I  do  not  mean  to 
trouble  you  or  to  be  selfish.  I  only  want 
you  to  know  how  much  I  love  you,  and 
I  cannot  help  saying  it,  Gerald." 

"Oh,  forgive  you!  forgive  you!  You 
are  always  wanting  to  be  forgiven,  and 
then  doing  the  same  sins  over.  I  should 


8o        Little  Marjories  Love -Story. 

think  if  you  cared  for  me  you  would  try 
a  little  not  to  annoy  me  so." 

"I  do  try,"  returned  Marjorie,  with  a 
choking  sob.  "Oh,  I  do  try;  but  —  but 
Gerald,  you  are  not  always  kind  to  me;" 
and  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  afraid 
of  what  she  had  said;  and  all  her  hap- 
piness was  gone  because  of  his  cruel 
words. 

Gerald  could  not  brook  the  suggestion 
of  a  reproach.  To  his  eyes  his  conduct 
was  blameless.  Had  he  not  promised 
that  Marjorie  should,  live  with  him  when 
he  was  great!  Had  he  not  allowed  her 
to  love  him?  What  more  could  she  ex- 
pect! His  proud  spirit  rose  like  a  flash; 
for  Gerald  had  a  quick,  excitable  nature, 
which,  according  to  his  mood,  could  be 
roused  by  a  single  offenceless  word; 
and  it  was  Marjorie's  misfortune  that 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        81 

despite  the  deep  love  she  had  for  him  in 
her  heart,  she  was  the  one  to  draw  down 
this  ill-will  upon  her  innocent  self. 
Gerald  truly  believed  that  he  was  a  good 
brother  to  her,  —  had  she  not  said  it 
herself  a  hundred  times!  and  that  she 
should  now  reproach  him  with  unkind- 
ness  was  a  great  sin.  He  pushed  her 
away  and  said  angrily, — 

"It  is  a  great  pity  you  have  such  a 
heartless  brother,  indeed,  and  perhaps 
you  will  be  glad  enough  when  you 
haven't  him  any  more.  I  think  I'll  go 
away  and  leave  you,  I  really  do." 

"  Don't  say  that ! "  cried  Marjorie,  in 
alarm;  "don't  say  it,  Gerald;  I  could  not 
live  without  you;  indeed,  I  could  not." 

"Then  why  do  you  vex  me  and  cry 
at  nothing?  You  know  very  well  I  hate 
to  see  you  cry.  If  you  knew  how  hid- 

6 


82        Little  Marjories  Love -Story. 

eous  it  makes  you,  perhaps  you  would 
not  do  it  so  often." 

Marjorie  was  very  miserable.  She  held 
up  her  white  arms,  imploringly, — 

"I  did  not  mean  it,  dear  Gerald;  you 
are  very  good  to  me,  and  I  love  you ! " 

"But  /  do  not  love  you,"  he  said, 
severely ;  "  and  I  am  going  away,  to-mor- 
row, to  leave  you." 

"  Gerald !  Gerald !  You  must  not  go  — 
you  must  not  go  away  from  me.  I 
am  all  alone  in  the  world ;  I  have  no  one 
but  you;  I  should  die  without  you." 

"No,  you  would  not,"  he  answered 
coldly;  and  he  rose  and  walked  away 
with  the  hard,  bitter  look  on  his  young 
face. 

Marjorie  stood  looking  at  him  vacantly, 
silent  and  stupefied  with  grief.  She  had 
neither  courage  nor  strength  to  run  up 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.       83 

to  him  and  make  him  forgive  her.  Al- 
ways before  she  had  pleaded  with  him 
and  brought  back  a  smile  or  a  kind  word 
to  his  lips ;  and  their  sad  time  had  ended 
in  her  kissing  all  his  angry  thoughts 
away.  But  to-night  the  sound  of  his 
words  rang  in  her  heart  with  a  terrible, 
cruel  meaning;  and  he  seemed  to  have 
taken  with  him  all  her  strength  and 
hope.  Only  a  moment  ago  she  had  been 
so  happy;  and  now  the  world  was  cold 
and  dark,  and  she  was  alone  in  it. 

Some  hearts,  especially  those  of  the 
young,  are  unsympathetic  in  their  pros- 
perity. They  forget  the  hands  that  have 
labored  for  them,  the  willing  sacrifices 
that  have  been  made  for  them;  the  lov- 
ing words  of  praise  that  have  cheered  and 
encouraged  them,  —  often  the  very  ones 
that  have  helped  them  to  success,  Heaven 


84        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

forgive  them  1  Gerald  thought  no  more  of 
Marjorie  after  he  had  left  her.  For  some 
hours  longer  he  lay  dreaming  of  his  good 
fortune,  of  the  happiness  in  store  for  him ; 
for  Monseigneur  had  really  told  him  that 
on  the  next  day  he  was  to  go  to  the 
great  city  to  be  taught  until  he  should 
become  the  greatest  singer  in  the  world. 
It  was  his  reward  for  having  sung  so 
well  at  the  chateau ;  or  for  having  a  win- 
ning face  and  sweet  blue  eyes,  perhaps; 
or  for  having  been  such  a  good  brother 
to  Marjorie, — who  shall  say?  Gerald  did 
not  trouble  himself  with  this  problem ; 
he  only  smiled  at  the  pleasing  visions 
ahead,  and  fell  at  last  into  a  quiet  sleep. 
But  Marjorie  had  no  pleasant  dreams 
to  look  forward  to.  She  had  only  the 
memory  of  a  sickening  sorrow,  and  a 
dull  aching  feeling  at  her  heart ;  and  she 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        85 

could  find  no  rest  till  she  had  gone  to 
her  brother's  little  room,  and  had  softly 
crept  to  his  bedside,  and  given  him  the 
gentle  kiss  that  his  hardness  of  heart  had 
forbidden  her.  And  when  she  saw  him 
lying  there  sleeping  so  peacefully  with 
the  hopeful  smile  resting  on  his  face,  she 
believed  that  in  his  heart  he  had  for- 
given her,  and  she  was  comforted. 

The  morning  came,  and  with  it  Mon- 
seigneur.  It  was  a  cold,  gray,  dismal 
morning.  The  little  cottage  never  looked 
so  bare,  and  the  moaning  of  the  tall  pop- 
lars was  never  so  sad  as  on  that  morning 
when  Marjorie  saw  the  great  carriage  roll 
up  to  the  garden-gate,  and  her  brother 
Gerald  disappear  within  it,  and  the  black 
horses  gallop  away  so  fast,  as  if  they 
never  cared  that  they  were  taking  from 
her  the  dearest  thing  of  her  life!  She 


86        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

stood  watching  them  alone,  holding  her 
heart,  following  them  with  her  eyes 
till  they  had  vanished  in  the  distance, 
and  the  sound  of  the  rumbling  wheels 
was  heard  no  more  —  and  so  she  lost 
him. 

Ah  me!  What  a  dreadful  day  it  was! 
How  the  rain  fell;  and  how  poor  Little 
Marjorie's  tears  flowed!  Gerald  was 
gone — gone  from  her  with  never  a  word 
of  forgiveness :  she  could  think  of  nothing 
else.  Yet  in  her  grief  she  loved  him  and 
blamed  herself  and  could  see  no  wrong 
in  him.  Ah,  most  blessed,  most  perfect, 
truest  love,  that  stands  alone,  steadfast 
amid  the  wrecks  and  disappointments  of 
human  affections,  and  wavers  not  in  its 
fidelity!  No,  there  is  not  in  all  the  world 
a  stronger  or  purer  or  more  enduring 
love  than  this. 


Little  Marjorie's  Low-Story.       87 

Gerald  as  he  was, — Gerald  the  thought- 
less, selfish  brother,  the  cause  of  all  her 
heartache,  —  had  no  place  in  Marjorie's 
memory  now.  She  could  only  think 
of  him  as  he  had  been  in  the  days  of 
his  innocent  babyhood;  she  remembered 
only  the  beautiful  child  who  had  loved 
and  trusted  her,  and  gladdened  her  own 
troubled  childhood.  She  lived  over  and 
over  again  in  her  fancy  all  the  little  ten- 
der things  he  had  said  to  her ;  the  fond 
caresses  and  bright  glances  that  had 
penetrated  her,  and  suffused  her  soul 
with  a  strange  sweet  happiness.  Ab- 
sence is  a  great  reconciliator,  —  it  makes 
us  forget  the  sorrows  of  the  past,  and 
live  only  in  the  memory  of  hours  made 
bright  by  gentleness  and  love.  And 
Marjorie  had  but  one  sorrow  now,- 
that  of  being  parted  from  him,  and  the 


88        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

dread  that  she  might  never  see  him 
more ;  while  all  the  rest  faded  out  of  her 
heart  like  a  dream. 

It  was  very  dreary  without  Gerald; 
and  Marjorie  wandered  from  the  blue 
lake  to  the  green  mountains,  and  found 
no  cheer.  She  could  not  look  upon  the 
things  they  had  loved,  however  beautiful 
they  were,  without  that  strange,  chok- 
ing, deathly  pain  wringing  her  heart. 
She  could  not  see  the  familiar  places 
where  they  had  been  so  happy  together 
without  feeling  that  she  was  alone  and 
wretched  now;  and  there  was  not  a 
thing  or  a  place  in  her  life  but  was 
linked  with  a  thought  of  him.  She 
never  lived  a  day  but  it  brought  back 
some  recollection  bitter  or  sweet,  to 
flood  her  young  soul  with  new  misery. 
Her  eyes  grew  darker  and  sadder  with 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        89 

tears,  and  her  thin  sweet  face  was  al- 
most transparent  in  its  whiteness.  And 
the  good  village  people  who  were  wont 
to  see  her  standing  at  dusk  beside  the 
little  garden-gate  shook  their  heads 
sadly,  and  said  "Poor  little  soul!"  more 
than  ever,  and  almost  hoped  that  the 
morrow  would  find  her  in  a  happier 
world.  But  Marjorie  lived  on  a  vain 
and  foolish  hope,  as  many  a  one  has 
done,  -  -  the  hope  that  sometime  she 
should  stand  there  and  see  her  brother 
Gerald  coming  back  to  her;  coming  to 
love  her  and  make  her  happy. 


CHAPTER    V. 

YEAR  passed  wearily  on, 
and  then  another;  and  it 
was  nearing  Christmas-tide. 
Marjorie  had  had  no  mes- 
sage from  Gerald  through 
all  this  long  time,  for  Monseigneur  had 
not  returned,  and  people  seldom  went  to 
the  great  city:  it  was  a  long  distance 
away,  and  the  roads  were  dangerous. 
But  one  day  the  little  village  was  all 
astir  with  the  news  that  a  young  lad 
whom  every  one  had  known  as  a  pretty 
fair-haired  boy  had  found  favor  in  the 
great  city  with  his  singing;  that  indeed 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        91 

his  voice  was  the  talk  and  wonder  of  all 
the  people ;  that  he  was  going  to  sing  in 
the  Mass  at  the  Cathedral  on  Christmas 
Eve,  and  that  crowds  of  people  would 
come  to  hear  him. 

Marjorie  heard  it  all,  and  listened  with 
a  fluttering  heart.  Could  it  be  her 
brother  Gerald?  She  felt  sure  it  must 
be  he.  Who  but  Gerald  was  beautiful, 
and  had  a  marvellous  voice?  The  old 
longing  rose  strong  and  wild  in  her  poor 
heart  at  the  thought  of  his  triumph, — 
the  longing  to  see  his  dear  face  again ; 
to  hear  him  sing;  to  meet  the  look  of 
pleasure  in  his  eyes,  for  Gerald  was  al- 
ways happy  when  he  sang.  Perhaps, 
too,  he  would  be  glad  to  see  her,  —  it  was 
such  a  long  time  since  they  were  parted 
from  each  other!  And  he  might  want 
to  love  her  now  that  he  was  happy,  if 


92        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

he  had  not  forgotten  her.  But  then, 
he  might  have  forgotten  her !  There  .had 
been  times,  many  times,  when  she  had 
sickened  at  this  thought;  and  there 
had  been  days  when  Gerald  seemed  so 
far  away  that  she  felt  she  should  never 
see  him  again.  But  there  had  never 
been  an  hour  when  she  had  forgotten 
him;  and  she  comforted  herself  with 
the  belief  that  though  his  love  was  dif- 
ferent, it  was  not  less  true  than  her  own. 
But  Marjorie  had  not  lived  in  a  great 
city,  with  its  pleasures  and  excitements 
and  its  ever  new  people;  she  had  not 
been  singing  before  a  great  maestro,  who 
told  her  a  hundred  things  to  turn  her 
young  head ;  she  had  not  been  caressed 
and  flattered  by  people  whom  it  was  an 
honor  to  know;  she  had  not  been 
rocked  in  the  hope  of  becoming  some 


Little  Marjories  Love -Story.       93 

day  a  great  artist.  Marjorie  had  only 
stayed  in  the  little  village  with  Mademoi- 
selle; she  had  had  but  one  image  before 
her,  and  but  one  hope,  —  that  of  being 
sometime  good  and  strong  and  wise 
enough  to  please  Gerald ;  and  when  at  last 
she  heard  of  his  fair  fortune,  it  seemed  as 
if  all  her  strength  and  hope  were  armed 
for  one  great  effort  to  go  out  into  the 
world  alone,  if  need  be,  and  never  rest 
till  she  had  found  him.  It  was  a  wild 
and  desperate  thought;  but  desperate 
thoughts  come  to  us  all  when  we  are 
in  great  trouble,  and  she  could  find  no 
peace  while  yet  this  vague  hope  flitted 
before  her.  She  brooded  over  it  by  day 
and  dreamed  of  it  by  night,  and  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  going  back  to 
the  old  life  of  dreary  waiting :  she  would 
go  to  him  now,  and  never  leave  him  more. 


94        Little  Marjories  Love -Story. 

Early  one  bitter  morning  in  the  heart 
of  December,  Marjorie  left  the  little  cot- 
tage where  she  had  spent  her  childhood, 
—  the  home  that  was  linked  in  her  mind 
with  all  the  joy  and  sorrow  of  her  young 
life.  She  looked  back  to  it  with  a  vague 
feeling  that  she  should  never  see  it  again ; 
and  a  flood  of  memories  came  crowding 
upon  her  and  overwhelmed  her  heart. 
The  wind  blew  icy  cold;  the  snow  fell 
in  blinding  flakes,  burying  all  trace  of 
the  roads;  the  waters  of  the  blue  lake 
were  frozen  into  a  solid  glare,  and  were 
cold  and  unresponsive  to  her  look  of 
tearful  farewell.  The  little  world  she 
was  leaving  behind  slept  quietly ;  there 
was  not  a  living  thing  astir  on  this 
bleak  wintry  morning,  —  only  a  little 
girl  with  a  pale  anxious  face  and  wildly 
beating  heart,  hurrying,  hurrying,  she 


THE   LITTLE   WORLD   SHE   WAS   LEAVING   BEHIND   SLEPT   QUIETLY." 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.       97 

scarce  knew  whither.  She  did  not  think 
of  the  distance  between  her  and  the 
great  city;  she  did  not  think  of  the 
tediousness  of  a  day's  journey  on  foot 
across  a  rough  and  rugged  country; 
she  did  not  care  that  she  had  no  food 
to  stay  her  failing  strength,  and  but 
scanty  clothing  to  shield  her  from  the 
cruel  cold:  the  thought  of  seeing  Gerald, 
of  listening  to  his  voice  again,  soon  rose 
above  every  other  thought,  and  made 
her  strong  and  brave.  She  beguiled 
the  dreary  hours  with  fair  day-dreams 
soon  to  be  realized;  she  was  dreaming 
of  what  their  meeting  would  be,  of  all 
that  she  would 'say  to  him.  Would  he 
be  glad  ?  Would  he  take  her  into  his 
arms  and  kiss  her?  Ah,  yes;  she  was 
sure  he  would.  And  she  would  say, 
"Gerald,  dear,  dear  Gerald,  I  am  sorry!" 

7 


98        Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

and  he  would  look  at  her  in  his  fond 
old  way,  and  call  her  his  dear,  foolish 
Marjorie.  And  then  he  would  take  her 
into  the  great  Cathedral  with  him;  and 
when  he  sang  it  would  be  all  for  her; 
and  when  the  Mass  was  done  they 
would  walk  away  together,  as  they  had 
done  that  night  from  the  chateau,  to 
the  place  where  Gerald  lived.  It  must 
be  a  beautiful  place,  for  Gerald  was  so 
great  and  famous  already.  She  could 
almost  see  how  he  would  look  when  she 
told  him  how  wretched  she  had  been; 
and  how  he  would  laugh  his  clear, 
merry,  ringing  laugh,  and  say  it  had  all 
been  a  hideous  dream,  and  that  now  she 
was  never  to  leave  him  any  more,  — 
and  the  thought  of  it  all  so  thrilled 
her  that  she  cried  a  little  for  thinking 
of  her  happiness.  Marjorie  was  too 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.        99 

young,  too  strong  in  faith,  to  accept 
sorrow  as  a  reality;  she  did  not  know 
that  sorrow  is  the  only  thing  in  this 
world  that  is  real,  —  the  only  thing  that 
stays  and  clings  to  us,  and  will  not  be 
put  away,  not  even  by  the  hope  of  a 
coming  joy. 

Marjorie  traversed  the  dark  mysterious 
woods,  so  still  and  lonely,  where  no 
sound  broke  the  awful  stillness  but  the 
wild  moaning  of  the  wind  through  the 
naked  trees,  and  the  tread  of  her  weary 
little  feet  as  she  made  her  way  over  the 
icy  twigs.  She  did  not  stop  to  rest  or 
refresh  her  faint  young  body;  she  did 
not  think  of  the  pain  she  felt  now,  for 
the  great  longing  that  was  in  her  heart. 
If  Gerald  had  known  what  Marjorie 
went  through  in  that  dreadful  day,  what 
suffering  of  soul  and  body  she  bore  for 


ioo      Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

his  sake,  his  heart,  selfish  and  hard 
though  it  was,  would  have  melted,  I 
think,  for  very  pity  of  the  wretched 
little  sister  whose  only  sin  was  to  love 
him. 

But  at  that  very  hour,  when  Marjorie 
was  journeying  wearily  toward  him, 
Gerald  was  full  of  the  glories  of  the 
coming  night,  and  Marjorie  had  long 
since  ceased  to  have  any  place  in  his 
thoughts.  He  was  to  sing  at  the  Cathe- 
dral ;  he,  the  youngest  of  the  choristers, 
was  to  lead  the  midnight  Mass,  and 
sing  alone  the  Agnus  Dei.  It  was  a 
great  thing  indeed,  for  he  would  be 
rewarded  handsomely  by  the  maestro  if 
he  did  his  best;  and  he  was  proud  and 
happy,  as  he  had  cause  to  be  had  his 
great  gift  left  room  in  his  heart  for 
aught  that  was  grateful  and  tender. 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.      101 

But  Gerald's  nature  had  neither  grate- 
fulness nor  tenderness  in  it;  and  though 
his  art  was  the  gift  of  Heaven,  it  never 
raised  him  from  his  earthly  longings  into 
a  world  of  eternal  peace. 

At  length  the  day  darkened,  and  the 
moaning  of  the  wind  was  hushed,  and 
the  sky  grew  dark  and  angry  with 
clouds,  and  the  killing  night-frost  fell 
like  a  mantle  over  the  cheerless  earth. 
Marjorie  hurried  onward,  out  of  the 
gloomy  forest  into  the  deepening  twi- 
light. She  was  still  a  long  way  from  the 
city ;  it  was  snowing  very  fast,  the  roads 
were  impenetrable,  and  she  could  see 
nothing  for  the  darkness.  Her  strength 
was  failing,  and  despair  seized  her;  she 
uttered  a  low  cry,  and  sank  for  a  moment 
by  the  roadside  —  but  only  a  moment,  to 
rest  and  think,  to  pray  for  help  from 


102      Little  Marjories  Love- Story. 

Heaven.  Just  then  she  heard  a  distant 
chime  of  bells  pealing  out  the  Angelus. 
It  was  a  blessed  sound,  the  only  familiar 
thing  that  had  crossed  her  path  through 
that  long  and  dismal  day,  and  it  fell  on 
her  drooping  spirits  like  a  ray  of  hope. 
She  listened  to  its  faint  echoes,  and  they 
seemed  to  be  calling  her  as  they  died 
away  on  the  night.  It  was  the  bell  of 
the  great  Cathedral. 

A  minute  later  the  light  of  a  lantern 
shone  across  the  road,  and  an  unsteady- 
footed  mule  went  by  pulling  a  little 
cart  with  a  single  traveller  in  it.  Mar- 
jorie  rose  to  her  feet  and  called  out  to 
him. 

"  Stop !  oh  please  stop ! "  she  cried 
tremblingly. 

"Well,  what  now?"  said  a  gruff  voice, 
and  the  little  cart  stood  still. 


Little  Marjories  Love- Story.      103 

"The  way  to  the  city  —  if  you  could 
tell  me  —  please,"  said  Marjorie,  faintly. 

"There's  only  one  way,"  said  the  man, 
"and  it's  a  bad  one." 

"How  far  is  it?"  asked  Marjorie. 

"  More  than  a  league,  maybe ;  there  's 
no  telling,  a  night  like  this." 

Marjorie  groaned,  and  the  man  bent 
down  to  look  at  her.  The  white  snow 
reflected  the  rays  of  light  from  the  lan- 
tern, and  showed  him  a  face  so  worn  and 
suffering  and  yet  so  childlike  that  he 
uttered  an  oath  by  way  of  astonishment 
and  sympathy. 

"And  now,  whither?"  he  asked  in 
kinder  tones. 

"To  the  Cathedral,"  answered  she,  "to 
hear  the  midnight  Mass." 

"That's  not  my  way,"  returned  the 
man ;  "  but  I  '11  take  thee  to  the  city,  and 


104      Little  Marjories  Love- Story. 

thou  canst  find  thy  way  to  the  church 
after  if  thou  art  fool  enough  to  travel  all 
this  way  for  a  drop  of  holy  water.  I  'd 
never  have  gone  a  step  in  thy  place,  not 
for  the  Saint  Peter  himself,  in  a  hurricane 
like  this ; "  and  he  lifted  her  into  the  cart 
less  roughly  than  his  voice  had  sounded. 

Marjorie  allowed  him  to  put  a  little 
bundle  of  straw  under  her  head,  and  to 
throw  his  leather  jacket  over  her  shiver- 
ing limbs;  and  then  the  mule  took  up 
its  slow  uncertain  tread  again,  and  they 
moved  on  in  the  darkness. 

It  must  have  taken  them  a  long  while 
to  make  that  league  or  more,  for  by  the 
time  they  reached  the  outskirts  of  the 
city  the  snow  had  ceased  falling,  and 
the  stars  were  shining  through  the 
broken  clouds,  and  Marjorie  knew  that 
she  had  been  sleeping.  Now  they  had 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.       105 

crossed  the 
bridge,  and  were 
nearing  the 
heart  of  the  busy 
city.  Marjorie's 
eyes  looked 
round  her  in 
astonishment; 
-  she  was  bewil- 
dered by  all  the 
strange  new 
sounds,  —  the 
rumble  of  car- 
riages, and  the 
tramp  of  horses' 
feet  over  the  icy 
pavements,  and 
the  ringing  and 
clanging  of 
church  bells,  till 


io6      Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

the  air  seemed  wild  and  crazy  with 
noise.  She  saw  the  long  white  street 
with  its  double  rows  of  lamp -posts 
shedding  their  lurid  light  on  the  streams 
of  people  moving  beneath  them,  and 
the  thought  of  finding  her  way  through 
that  multitude  made  her  heart  beat 
frightfully. 

Presently  the  cart  stopped,  and  the 
driver  made  as  if  to  wake  her,  rapping 
with  his  stick  on  one  of  the  wheels. 

"Where  are  we?"  asked  Marjorie. 

"We  are  here,"  rejoined  the  man,  and 
he  pointed  to  where  the  gaunt  gray 
towers  of  the  Cathedral  rose  against  the 
star -lit  heavens. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you,  for  bring- 
ing me  so  near,"  cried  Marjorie,  her  heart 
leaping  for  the  sudden  joy.  "I  have  no 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.      107 

money,   but   I   will   pray  to  the  blessed 
saints  for   you;    1  — '    and   her -grateful' 
tears  fell  fast. 

The  carter  moved  off  quickly,  clearing 
his  throat  the  while ;  but  he  looked  back 
once  to  see  Marjorie's  little  figure  losing 
itself  in  the  crowd. 

She  drew  near  the  steps  of  the  old 
Cathedral.  The  portals  were  not  yet 
opened,  but  she  could  see  the  soft  red 
lights  falling  from  its  gothic  windows 
against  the  dark  gray  walls.  It  could  not 
be  far  from  midnight.  Crowds  of  people 
were  there  already,  pushing  forward  and 
eager  to  be  the  first  to  enter.  No  one 
but  Marjorie  seemed  to  know  what  a 
bitter  night  it  was.  The  people  she  saw 
were  wrapped  in  soft  rich  cloaks,  and 
came  with  light  steps  and  happy  faces, 


io8      Little  Marjories  Love- Story. 

for  it  was  Christmas  Eve.  Marjorie  won- 
dered if  she  would  find  a  place  in  the 
great  Cathedral,  —  a  little  place,  where 
she  might  hide  herself  and  still  see 
Gerald  when  he  sang! 


CHAPTER    VI. 

IT  was  not  long  before  the  doors 
were  opened,  and  the  aisles 
filled  rapidly  with  worship- 
pers. Marjorie  looked  in 
wistfully.  Twice  she  crossed 
the  threshold  of  the  great 
door,  and  came  back  with 

Y 

her  courage  all  gone.  But 
at  last  she  took  heart,  and  braved  herself 
with  the  thought  that  Gerald  too  would 
be  there  soon;  and  that  thought  drove 
away  all  her  fears.  And  then,  were  not 
even  the  great  churches  open  to  all  —  to 
the  rich  and  poor  —  on  Christmas  Eve? 


i io      Little  Marjories  Love- Story. 

She  went  in,  and  knelt  beneath  a  picture 
of  the  blessed  Christ  holding  a  tender  lamb 
in  his  arms;  and  as  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  the  divine  face,  she  felt  that  surely 
He  would  help  and  comfort  her. 

The  high  altar  was  all  aglow  with 
burning  candles,  and  the  flowers  and  the 
incense  mingled  together  in  a  holy  fra- 
grance. On  the  left  was  the  shrine  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  straight  in  front  of 
where  Marjorie  knelt  was  the  creche 
where  the  Infant  Jesus  lay  on  a  rude  bed 
of  straw,  surrounded  by  so  many  dazzling 
lights  that  the  little  marble  figure  seemed 
warmed  by  them  into  life  and  color. 

Marjorie  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  and  prayed  out  of  the  earnestness 
of  her  soul  a  long  wordless  prayer,  —  a 
prayer  of  thanksgiving  that  she  was  here 
at  last  in  this  haven  of  rest  and  peace. 


Little  Marjories  Love- Story .     m 

Suddenly  the  tones  of  an  organ  broke  in 
upon  the  sacred  stillness,  and  swayed  their 
melody  out  into  the  world  of  worshippers. 
The  High  Mass  began.  The  white -robed 
choir  took  up  the  Kyrie  Eleison,  and  a 
mighty  chorus  of  angel  voices  swelled  to 
the  vaulted  roof  of  the  ancient  Cathedral. 
Softly,  sweetly,  mystically,  a  single  voice 
rose  high  and  clear  above  the  others.  It 
soared  and  soared  like  some  happy  winged 
thing;  it  sailed  forth  into  the  quivering 
air  with  flute -like  strength  and  sweet- 
ness, beyond  the  realms  of  earthly  music 
till  the  great  chorus  with  the  sound  of 
its  hundred  voices  died  away  to  a  murmur 
that  seemed  only  to  blend  its  harmony 
to  the  magic  of  that  one  pure  strain.  It 
was  a  young  voice;  a  voice  that  thrilled 
the  souls  of  men  as  a  sudden  burst  of 
light  from  heaven  might ;  a  voice  rich 


ii2  Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

and  full  as  a  woman's,  and  as  sweet  as 
a  seraph's  song. 

A  mist  rose  before  Marjorie's  eyes,  her 
head  swam,  her  breath  forsook  her,  and 
she  lay  with  her  head  resting 
on  the  little  stool  before  her. 
No  one  saw  her ;  no  one  knew 
that  she  had  fainted.  When 
she  recovered  her  conscious- 
ness the  Mass  was  nearly  done ; 
but  there  before  her  was  that 
same  radiant  vision,  —  a  fair, 
proud  being  arrayed  in  a  robe 
of  dazzling  whiteness,  and  look- 
ing to  her  bewildered  eyes  like  some 
celestial  creature.  There  was  no  mis- 
take ;  it  was  Gerald,  her  own  dear  Gerald. 
He  stood  there  singing  alone :  "  Agnus 
Dei,  qui  tollis  peccata  mundi- 

And  the  same   silvery  notes  rang  out 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.         1 13 

upon  the  air,  rising  and  falling  in  liquid 
cadence,  and  filling  the  great  vast  with 
its  marvellous  sweet  melody. 

Only  a  boy,  with  a  face  like  an  angel 
and  a  voice  pleading  for  the  sins  of 
the  world,  —  a  voice  laden  with  infinite 
sadness  and  love;  and  yet  his  own 
heart  as  cold  and  compassionless  as  the 
chill  mantle  that  covered  the  earth 
without. 

Ah  me!  that  a  gift  like  this  should 
have  strayed  into  a  human  erring  soul! 
that  a  thing  so  heavenly  as  music  should 
be  fettered  to  weak  and  sinning  mor- 
tality! And  yet  there  are  many  such, — 
many  whose  hearts  are  the  temples  of  this 
great  and  glorious  gift,  and  yet  where  it 
must  needs  dwell  side  by  side  with  all 
that  is  unfeeling  and  unholy.  It  is  the 
strangest  and  saddest  of  mysteries! 


ii4         Little  Marjories  Love- Story. 

The  people  sat  utterly  spellbound  till 
the  very  last  note  had  died  from  Gerald's 
lips.  For  a  full  minute  the  great  church 
was  steeped  in  breathless  silence.  It 
seemed  as  if  time  stood  still,  and  all 
forgot  to  worship  in  the  wonder  that  fol- 
lowed. When  the  benediction  was  said 
and  the  crowd  had  passed  out  of  the 
long  aisles,  and  the  white-robed  choris- 
ters had  disappeared  in  the  sacristy,  Little 
Marjorie  was  still  kneeling  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  spot  where  Gerald  had  stood, 
seeing  nothing  but  that  beloved  face, 
hearing  nothing  but  the  echo  of  his 
music  in  her  heart.  A  moment  later 
some  one  was  putting  out  the  lights  in 
the  Cathedral,  and  the  world  was  grow- 
ing dark  again  for  her.  She  rose  and 
went  out  into  the  cold  night  to  wait 
for  him.  She  would  watch  on  the  church 


"SEEING  NOTHING  BUT  THAT  BELOVED  FACE,   HEARING  NOTHING   BUT 
THE   ECHO  OF   HIS   MUSIC   IN   HER   HEART." 


Little  Marjories  Love -Story.       117 

steps  till  he  came  by,  and  then  she  would 
go  to  him  and  call  him  by  name  and  he 
would  know  her.  Weak  and  trembling 
she  stood  behind  one  of  the  gray  stone 
pillars,  while  the  cruel  wind  blew  and 
the  thoughtless  multitude  passed  on,  tak- 
ing no  heed  of  the  miserable  little  figure. 
She  waited  a  long  time  till  she  was  nearly 
fainting  with  the  dread  that  she  might 
have  missed  Gerald  in  the  crowd  and 
perhaps  lost  him,  when  a  number  of  gay, 
light-hearted  boys  came  trooping  out 
at  the  old  churchyard  gate.  They  were 
singing  and  cheering  noisily,  and  Gerald's 
name  was  caught  up  and  carried  loudly 
from  mouth  to  mouth.  They  came 
nearer  and  nearer,  till,  in  the  last  rosy 
stream  of  light  that  fell  from  the  Cathe- 
dral windows,  Marjorie  caught  sight  of 
her  brother's  fair  head  towering  above 
all  the  others. 


n8      Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

She  stepped  forward  breathlessly,  and 
her  heart  began  to  beat  very  wildly.  All 
her  strength  was  leaving  her.  She  tried 
to  call  him,  but  her  voice  was  gone. 
Would  he  go  by  without  seeing  her? 
She  descended  to  the  very  last  step ;  some 
one  brushed  rudely  by  and  turned  round 
to  look  at  her,  and  then  called  out  jeer- 
ingly,  "A  beggar!  Away  with  the  beg- 
gars on  Christmas  Eve ! " 

They  all  went  by  her  with  the  cry,  but 
the  last  —  the  tallest  of  the  lads  —  stopped 
and  leaned  over  her  as  he  passed.  Mar- 
jorie  paled  beneath  the  sight  of  those  blue 
eyes.  She  put  out  her  trembling  hand. 

"  Gerald !  Gerald  1 "  she  whispered. 

Gerald's  eyes  rested  upon  her  but  a 
single  moment,  —  one  cruelly  short  mo- 
ment, while  his  heart  stood  still ;  and  then 
he  turned  them  away,  those  handsome 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.      119 

heaven-born  eyes,  —  turned  them  away 
from  her  forever.  He  drew  up  his  proud 
young  head,  and  a  strange,  wondering 
smile  played  about  his  features,  —  and 
the  next  instant  he  was  gone,  crying 
with  the  rest,  "  A  beggar !  Away  with 
the  beggars!"  He  had  done  better  to 
plunge  a  dagger  into  Little  Marjorie's 
heart. 

She  crept  back  and  hid  herself  like 
some  wounded  thing.  She  laid  her  little 
head  on  the  gray  stone.  There  was 
nothing  left  to  her  but  loneliness  and 
misery.  Gerald  had  seen  her,  and  known 
her,  and  forsaken  her.  She  had  waited 
these  long  years,  she  had  walked  that 
weary  way,  only  to  be  with  him,  and  he 
had  turned  away  from  her  in  shame. 
She  sank  upon  the  hard  cold  stones,  so 
weary,  so  hopeless,  so  broken-hearted  1 


120      Little  Marjories  Love-Story. 

And  there  was  not  a   human    hand    to 
comfort  her. 

But  the  angels  above,  whose  loving  mis- 
sion it  is  to  care  for  the  forsaken,  had 
pity  on  her  when  mortals  would  not. 
In  their  arms,  tenderly,  lovingly,  they 
bore  her  pure  white  soul  heavenward, 
.  and  Little  Marjorie,  whose  life  had  known 
no  joy,  wakened  at  last  amid  the  glories 
of  an  eternal  Christmas  morn. 

Ah,  beautiful,  beautiful  waking !  Blessed 
recompense  that  comes  soon  or  late  to 
those  who  suffer!  Let  us  not  weep  for 
Little  Marjorie  as  she  lies  there  beneath 
the  arch  of  the  gray  Cathedral  and  the 
cold  bright  stars  shed  their  light  upon 
her  peaceful  face;  the  memory  of  her 
earthly  love  is  dead,  and  all  her  earthly 
sorrows  are  done. 


Little  Marjories  Love-Story.      121 

That  night  Gerald  found  no  rest.  His 
dreams  were  haunted  by  that  tender 
image  and  its  look  of  yearning  love. 
When  the  morning  came,  and  the  sun 
rose  over  the  white  world,  and  sweet 
sonorous  bells  rang  out  the  gladness  of 
the  Christmas-tide,  it  brought  no  joy  to 
him.  The  cruel  look  and  words  that 
had  broken  Little  Marjorie's  spirit  were 
eating  their  way  into  his  own  heart. 
Early  he  walked  out  toward  the  Cathe- 
dral, led  by  a  strange  longing  to  see  the 
place  where  she  had  been,  perhaps  to  find 
her  there  waiting  for  him  still;  for  beg- 
gars often  slept  at  the  doors  of  the  house 
of  God  when  they  could  find  no  other 
shelter  in  the  great  city.  He  would  go 
to  her  and  comfort  her,  he  would  take 
her  to  him  and  ask  to  be  forgiven,  for 
Marjorie  had  always  been  willing  and 


122      Little  Marjories  Love -Story. 

glad  to  forgive  him ;  and  in  the  bit- 
terness of  his  repentance  he  was  already 
giving  her  all  that  she  had  so  needed, 
unbidden. 

But  what  he  found  when  he  reached 
the  steps  of  the  Catheral  was  the  aged 
sexton  kneeling  beside  a  little  figure  lying 
lifeless  at  the  foot  of  the  gray  pillar.  He 
saw  a  little  face  not  more  pale  in  death 
than  it  had  been  in  life,  but  from  whose 
features  every  trace  of  sorrow  had  van- 
ished. He  saw  the  face  of  Little  Marjorie 
as  it  had  aJways  been  to  him,  full  of 
sweetness  and  gentleness,  with  the  patient 
smile  upon  it  that  had  been  his  only  re- 
buke,—  a  face  that  in  its  glorified  repose 
said  only  — 

"  It  is  too  late  !  " 

Gerald  never  grew  out  of  the  memory 
of  that  early  childhood,  so  strangely 


Little  Marjories  Love -Story. 

isolated  and  yet  so  blessed  with 
love  for  him,  —  that  sweet  com- 
panionship where  she  had  given 
and  he  had  taken  her  all.    Life 
held  great  things  for  him,  for 
fortune    looks    not    always    to 
those  who    deserve    her   gifts; 
but  it  never  again  blessed  him 
with    a  love    like  this.    When 
Marjorie's  eyes   were  closed  to 
him,  the  sweetest  hope  of  his 
life   was   dead,  —  the    hope    of 
atoning  sometime  for  the  sor- 
row he  had  brought  to  her 
unselfish  heart.     The  mem- 
ory of  her  tender  love 
clung  to  him 
through  all 
the    hours 
of  his  great- 


12 


124      Little  Marjories  Love- Story. 

ness ;  and  when  the  dreams  of  his  worldly 
ambition  were  fulfilled,  and  the  reward 
of  his  great  gift  came  to  him  at  last, 
he  knew,  and  he  knew  truly,  that  no 
recompense  had  been  sweeter  and  no 
gift  more  precious  than  the  love  of 
Little  Marjorie. 


THE  END. 


A  SONG  OF  LIFE. 

By  MARGARET  WARNER  MORLEY.  With  profuse 
Illustrations  by  the  Author  and  by  Robert 
Forsyth.  Price,  $1.25. 


?-S£- 


THE  plan  and  purpose  of  this  work  are  at  once  very  unusual 
and  admirable.  A  special  student  of  biology  and  embryology 
and  a  charming  writer,  the  author  also  possesses  the  rare  com- 
bination of  scientific,  literary,  and  artistic  attainments  which 
render  such  a  work  posssible. 

It  unfolds  the  mystery  of  plant  and  animal  existence  with 
a  charm  of  manner  and  delicacy  of  treatment  that  delight 
while  they  instruct.  Mothers  who  read  it  will  quickly  see  its 
value  and  will  gladly  put  it  into  the  hands  of  their  sons  and 
daughters,  to  whom  its  beautiful  and  significant  "  Song  of 
Life  "  will  hardly  be  sung  in  vain. 


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CHICAGO. 


SWEET  WILLIAM. 

By  MARGUERITE  BOUVET.  With  Illustrations 
by  Helen  and  Margaret  /^"^j  Armstrong. 
Small  quarto,  209  pages,  /f^$  $1.50. 


THIS  very  at- 
tractive little  vol- 
ume is  unlike  any 
other  book  we  can 
think  of.  It  takes 
us  back  to  mediae- 
val times,  and  in- 
troduces us  to  the 
lords  and  ladies 
who  then  inhab- 
ited the  splendid 
castle  that  still 
looks  down  from 

the  heights  of  Mount  St.  Michael,  on  the  coast  of  Normandy. 
It  tells  the  pathetic  story  (with  a  happy  ending)  of  a  little  boy, 
who  had  he  lived  to-day  would  have  been  a  genuine  Little  Lord 
Fauntleroy,  and  introduces  us  also  to  a  Little  Lady  Fauntleroy, 
with  whom  we  cannot  help  falling  in  love.  The  illustrations 
are  singularly  beautiful  and  appropriate,  and  make  it  altogether 
one  of  the  most  attractive  juvenile  books  of  recent  years. 


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THE  STORY  OF  TONTY. 


An  Historical  Romance.  By  MARY  HARTWELL 
CATHERWOOD,  author  of  "The  Romance  of 
Dollard,"  "  The  Lady  of  Fort  St.  John,"  etc. 
Profusely  Illustrated  from  original  drawings  by 
Mr.  Enoch  Ward.  12mo,  224  pages,  $1.25. 


"  THE  Story  of  Tonty,"  in  which  Mrs.  Catherwood's  genius 
for  historical  romance  reaches  perhaps  its  highest  manifestation, 
is  a  Western  story,  beginning  at  Montreal,  tarrying  at  Fort 
Frontenac,  and  ending  at  the  old  fort  at  Starved  Rock,  on  the 
Illinois  river.  It  weaves  the  adventures  of  the  two  great  ex- 
plorers, the  intrepid  La  Salle  and  his  faithful  lieutenant,  Tonty, 
into  a  tale  as  thrilling  and  romantic  as  the  descriptive  portions 
are  brilliant  and  vivid.  It  is  superbly  illustrated  with  twenty- 
three  masterly  drawings  by  Mr.  Enoch  Ward. 


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gHORT  HISTORY  o*  ENGLAND 

FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  By  Miss  E.  S. 
KIRKLAND,  author  of  "  A  Short  History  of  France," 
"  Speech  and  Manners,"  etc. 

i2mo,  cloth,  price,  $1.25. 


IN  reviewing  Miss  Kirkland's  "  Short  History  of  France," 
the  "  Nation  "  said  Miss  Kirkland  had  "  composed  it  in  the  way 
in  which  a  history  for  young  people  should  be  written."  It  is 
therefore  natural  that  many  admirers  of  the  earlier  work  should 
have  urged  its  author  to  write  a  history  of  England  on  the  same 
plan.  This  seemed  especially  desirable  to  those  who  think  that 
no  history  of  England  adapted  to  the  needs  of  young  people 
now  exists.  Miss  Kirkland  has  yielded  to  the  urgency,  and  this 
book  is  the  result ;  but  it  was  not  written  until  after  years  of 
careful  preparation. 

It  is  believed  that  the  book  will  be  found  to  be  even  an 
improvement  upon  her  admirable  history  of  France,  as  the 
experience  gained  in  writing  that  volume  has  greatly  aided  Miss 
Kirkland  in  preparing  this.  It  will  not  be  found  a  book  for 
adults  simply  put  into  childish  language,  nor  will  it  be  found  full 
of  the  divine  right  of  kings  nor  of  the  unwisdom  of  the  American 
colonies  in  breaking  away  from  the  good  and  parental  govern- 
ment of  the  mother  country;  but  it  will  be  found  very  inter- 
esting, calm,  judicial,  and  somewhat  original  in  .its  judgments, 
thoroughly  abreast  with  the  results  of  recent  investigations, 
and  making  the  effort  at  least  to  tell  the  entire  story  justly  and 
dispassionately,  and  with  thought  and  language  alike  adapted 
to  the  capacity  and  the  needs  of  the  young. 


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LAUREL-CROWNED  TALES. 

ABDALLAH;  OR,  THE  FOUR-LEAVED  SHAMROCK.    By  ED- 
OUARD  LABOULAYE.     Translated  by  MARY  L.  BOOTH. 

RASSELAS,  PRINCE  OF  ABYSSINIA.    By  SAMUEL  JOHNSON. 

RAPHAEL  ;  OR,  PAGES  OF  THE  BOOK  OF  LIFE  AT  TWENTY. 
From  the  French  of  ALPHONSE  DE  LAMARTINE. 

THE  VICAR  OF  WAKEFIELD.    By  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 
THE  EPICUREAN.    By  THOMAS  MOORE. 
PICCIOLA.    By  X.  B.  SAINTINE. 

Other  volumes  in  preparation. 

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In  planning  this  series,  the  publishers  have  aimed  at  a  form 
which  should  combine  an  unpretentious  elegance  suited  to  the  fas- 
tidious book-lover  with  an  inexpensiveness  that  must  appeal  to  the 
most  moderate  buyer. 

It  is  the  intent  to  admit  to  the  series  only  such  tales  as  have 
for  years  or  for  generations  commended  themselves  not  only  to 
the  fastidious  and  the  critical,  but  also  to  the  great  multitude  of 
the  refined  reading  public,  —  tales,  in  short,  which  combine  purity 
and  classical  beauty  of  style  with  perennial  popularity. 


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EDUCATION  and  THE  HIGHER  LIFE. 

By  the  Rt.  Rev.  J.  L.  SPALDING, 

BISHOP    OF    PEORIA. 

izmo,  210  pages.     Price,  $1.00. 


READING  these  essays,  one  feels  urged  to  purer  thinking  and 
nobler  doing.  They  incite  to  excellence  of  mind  and  to  excellence 
of  soul.  To  one  who  feels  pessimistic,  narrow-minded,  narrow- 
souled,  they  come  with  joyous,  faith-carrying  words,  which  point 
and  lead  to  those  higher  truths  of  mind  and  soul  which  are  free 
from  dogma  of  sect  and  creed,  and  which  all  lovers  of  the  human 
intellect  and  the  divine  intelligence  delight  to  study.  —  Public 
Opin  ion ,  Wash  ington . 

These  essays  are  characterized  by  an  elevation  of  thought,  an 
earnestness  of  purpose,  which  are  well  adapted  to  stir  the  soul  to 
nobler  impulses  and  fuller  consecration  in  the  service  of  God  and 
man.  .  .  .  To  all  who  are  seeking  mental  and  moral  elevation,  this 
book  will  give  many  helpful  hints.  —  Methodist  Magazine,  Toronto. 

This  is  not  a  large  work,  but  it  is  a  practical  and  valuable  one. 
It  is  full  of  nuggets  of  golden  counsel.  It  is  impossible  to  read 
the  book  without  feeling  that  Bishop  Spalding  understands  the  true 
nature  of  education,  which  is  not  simply  to  stuff  the  mind,  but  to 
train  it.  We  wish  that  the  book  might  be  read  by  the  intelligent 
youth  of  our  land.  It  would  tend  to  enlighten  their  minds  as  to 
the  best  aims  and  purposes  of  life.  —  The  Observer,  New  York. 

The  aspiring  young  men  and  women  of  the  country  will  find  in 
these  pages  an  earnest  call  to  the  higher  life,  —  a  summons  to  fix 
their  attention  on  pure  and  lofty  ideals  of  character,  and  ever  ad- 
vance toward  them  with  firm  and  courageous  steps. —  Unity, 
Chicago. 

The  Bishop  of  Peoria  enjoys  more  than  a  local  fame  as  a 
learned  and  eloquent  man.  There  are  many  things  wisely  and  well 
said  in  this  collection  of  essays.  — Living  Church,  Chicago. 

It  is  a  plea  for  culture  as  a  means  toward  attaining  the  higher 
life,  and  is  a  good  word  well  spoken.  —  The  Inquirer,  Phila- 
delphia. 

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THE  BRIDGE  OF  THE  GODS. 

A  ROMANCE  OF  INDIAN  OREGON. 
By  F.  H.  BALCH. 

i2mo,  280  pages.     Price,  $1.25. 


THIS  is  a  masterly  and  original  delineation  of  Indian  life.  It 
is  a  strong  story,  charged  with  the  elemental  forces  of  the  human 
heart.  The  author  portrays  with  unusual  power  the  intense,  stern 
piety  of  the  ministers  of  colonial  New  England,  and  the  strange 
mingling  of  dignity,  superstition,  ferocity,  and  stoicism  that  char- 
acterized the  early  Indian  warriors. 

There  is  no  need  of  romancing,  and  Mr.  Balch's  scenic  descrip- 
tions are  for  all  practical  purposes  real  descriptions.  The  legends 
he  relates  of  the  great  bridge  which  once  spanned  the  Columbia, 
for  which  there  is  some  substantial  history,  adds  to  the  mystical 
charms  of  the  story.  His  Indian  characters  are  as  real  as  if  photo- 
graphed from  life.  No  writer  has  presented  a  finer  character  than 
the  great  chief  of  the  Willamettes,  Multnomah ;  Snoqualmie  the 
Cayuse;  or  Tohomish  the  Seer.  The  night  visit  of  Multnomah  to 
the  tomb  of  his  dead  wife  upon  that  lonely  island  in  the  Willam- 
ette is  a  picture  that  will  forever  live  in  the  reader's  memory.  .  .  . 
To  those  who  have  traversed  the  ground,  and  know  something  of 
Indian  character  and  the  wild,  free  life  of  pioneer  days,  the  story 
will  be  charming  —Inter-Ocean,  Chicago. 

It  is  a  truthful  and  realistic  picture  of  the  powerful  Indian  tribes 
that  inhabited  the  Oregon  country  two  centuries  ago.  ...  It  is  a 
book  that  will  be  of  value  as  a  historical  authority  ;  and  as  a  story 
of  interest  and  charm,  there  are  few  novels  that  can  rival  it.  - 
Traveller,  Boston, 

There  is  much  and  deep  insight  in  this  book.  The  characters 
stand  in  clear  outline,  and  are  original.  The  movement  of  the 
story  is  quick  and  varied,  like  the  running  water  of  the  great  river. 
—  The  Pacific,  San  Francisco. 

Its  field  is  new  for  fiction  ;  it  is  obviously  the  work  of  one  who 
has  bestowed  a  great  deal  of  study  on  the  subjects  he  would  illus- 
trate. It  is  very  interesting  reading,  fluently  written.  —  Times, 
Chicago. 

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COR  WABASH  AVE.  AND  MADISON  ST.,  CHICAGO. 


JTamtlt'ar  2Talfes;  on  astronomy* 

WITH  CHAPTERS  ON  GEOGRAPHY  AND  NAVIGATION,  AND 
A  CAREFULLY  PREPARED  INDEX  AND  APPENDIX  OF 
DEFINITIONS.  By  WILLIAM  HARWAR  PARKER,  author 
of  "  Recollections  of  a  Naval  Officer,"  etc.,  etc.  i2tno, 
264  pages.  $1.00. 


Familiar  Talks  on  Astronomy  are  so  easy  and  pleasant  that  they 
may  well  attract  readers  who  would  be  repelled  by  a  volume  of 
greater  pretensions  and  more  formal  style.  Even  the  little  mathe- 
matical explanations  on  which  he  now  and  then  enters  become 
quite  readable  under  his  facile  pen.  —  Nation,  New  York. 

The  book  is  not  written  for  scientists  —  who  are  reckoned  by 
the  hundreds  —  but  rather  for  the  young  student  and  general 
reader,  who  is  reckoned  by  the  million.  ...  It  is  a  valuable  work. 
.  .  .  We  wish  there  were  more  books  of  this  character,  —  in- 
structive, readable,  interesting  without  being  too  elementary.  — 
American  Engineer. 

Captain  Parker  has  given  us  just  the  book  for  the  man  who 
knows  but  little  of  Astronomy,  but  is  anxious  to  know  more. 
Clear,  direct,  and  plain,  our  author  is  worthy  of  all  commendation 
in  knowing  just  what  to  include  in  his  talks.  ...  A  carefully 
compiled  appendix  of  definitions,  and  a  good  index  close  a  small 
but  excellent  book.  — Living  Church,  Chicago. 

It  is  exceedingly  interesting,  and  is  brought  up  to  the  mark  of 
the  most  recent  knowledge.  .  .  .  There  is  nothing  about  the  book 
dry  and  forbidding.  You  are  drawn  at  once  into  close  and  enthu- 
siastic attention,  as  if  one  with  suitable  powers  were  actually  talk- 
ing to  you.  — Express,  Buffalo. 


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COR.  WABASH  AVE.  AND  MADISON  ST.,  CHICAGO 


SHORT     HISTORY     OF     FRANCE, 
FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.     By  Miss  E.  S.  KIRK- 
LAND,  author  of   "  Six  Little  Cooks,"   "  Dora's  House* 
keeping,"  &c. 

I2mo,  cloth,  price,  $1.25. 


"  A  very  ably  written  sketch  of  French  history,  from  the  ear- 
liest times  to  the  foundation  of  the  existing  Republic."  —  Cin*. 
cinnati  Gazette. 

"  The  narrative  is  not  dry  on  a  single  page,  and  the  little  his- 
tory may  be  commended  as  the  best  of  its  kind  that  has  yet 
appeared."  —  Bulletin,  Philadelphia. 

"A  book  both  instructive  and  entertaining.  It  is  not  a  dry 
compendium  of  dates  and  facts,  but  a  charmingly  written  his- 
tory." —  Christian  Union,  New  York. 

"  After  a  careful  examination  of  its  contents,  we  are  able  to 
conscientiously  give  it  our  heartiest  commendation.  We  know  no 
elementary  history  of  France  that  can  at  all  be  compared  with 
it. "  —  L  iving  Church. 

"  A  spirited  and  entertaining  sketch  of  the  French  people  and 
nation,  — one  that  will  seize  and  hold  the  attention  of  all  bright 
boys  and  girls  who  have  a  chance  to  read  it."  —  Sunday  After- 
noon, Springfield  (Mass.). 

"  We  find  its  descriptions  universally  good,  that  it  is  admirably 
simple  and  direct  in  style,  without  waste  of  words  or  timidity  of 
opinion.  The  book  represents  a  great  deal  of  patient  labor  and 
conscientious  study." — Courant,  Hartford  (Conn.). 

"  Miss  Kirkland  has  composed  her  '  Short  History  of  France ' 
in  the  way  in  which  a  history  for  young  people  ought  to  be  writ- 
ten ;  that  is,  she  has  aimed  to  present  a  consecutive  and  agreea- 
ble story,  from  which  the  reader  can  not  only  learn  the  names  of 
kings  and  the  succession  of  events,  but  can  also  receive  a  vivid 
and  permanent  impression  as  to  the  characters,  modes  of  life, 
and  the  spirit  of  different  periods."  —  The  Nation,  New  York. 

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THE   BOOK-LOVER.     A  Guide  to  the 
Best    Reading.      By  JAMES    BALDWIN,    Ph.  D. 
Sixth  edition,  i6mo,    cloth,   gilt  top,  201  pages.    Price, 
#1.00. 

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Of  this  book,  on  the  best  in  English  Literature,  which  has 
already  been  declared  of  the  highest  value  by  the  testimony  of 
the  best  critics  in  this  country,  an  edition  of  one  thousand  copies 
has  just  been  ordered  for  London,  the  home  of  English  Liter- 
ature,—  a  compliment  of  which  its  scholarly  western  author  may 
justly  be  proud. 

We  know  of  no  work  of  the  kind  -which  gives  so  much  useful 
information  in  so  small  a  space,  -f  Evening  Telegram,  New 
York. 

Sound  in  theory  and  in  a  practical  point  of  view.  The  courses 
of  reading  laid  down  are  made  of  good  books,  and  in  general,  of 
the  best.  —  Independent,  New  York. 

Mr.  Baldwin  has  written  in  this  monograph  a  delightful  eulo- 
gium  of  books  and  their  manifold  influence,  and  has  gained 
therein  two  classes  of  readers,  —  the  scholarly  class,  to  which  he 
belongs,  and  the  receptive  class,  which  he  has  benefited.  — 
Evening  Mail  and  Express,  New  York. 

If  a  man  needs  that  the  love  of  books  be  cultivated  within  him, 
such  a  gem  of  a  book  as  Dr.  Baldwin's  ought  to  do  the  work. 
Perfect  and  inviting  in  all  that  a  book  ought  outwardly  to  be,  ks 
contents  are  such  as  to  instruct  the  mind  at  the  same  time  that 
they  answer  the  taste,  and  the  reader  who  goes  carefully  through 
its  two  hundred  pages  ought  not  only  to  love  books  in  general 
better  than  he  ever  did  before,  but  to  love  them  more  wisely, 
more  intelligently,  more  discriminatingly,  and  with  more  profit 
to  his  own  soul.  — Literary  World,  Boston- 


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TALES     OF     ANCIENT     GREECE. 
By  the  Rev.  Sir  G.  W.  Cox,  Bart.,  M.A.,  Trinity 
College,  Oxford. 

izmo,  cloth,  price,  $1.25. 

"Written  apparently  for  young  readers,  it  yet  possesses  a 
charm  of  manner  which  will  recommend  it  to  all." — The  Ex- 
aminer, London. 

"  It  is  only  when  we  take  up  such  a  book  as  this  that  we  real- 
ize how  rich  in  interest  is  the  mythology  of  Greece."  —  Inquirer •, 
Philadelphia. 

"Admirable  in  style,  and  level  with  a  child's  comprehension. 
These  versions  might  well  find  a  place  in  every  family."  —  The 
Nation,  New  York. 

"  The  author  invests  these  stories  with  a  charm  of  narrative 
entirely  peculiar.  The  book  is  a  rich  one  in  every  way."  — 
Standard,  Chicago. 

f<  In  Mr.  Cox  will  be  found  yet  another  name  to  be  enrolled 
among  those  English  writers  who  have  vindicated  for  this  coun- 
try an  honorable  rank  in  the  investigation  of  Greek  history."  — 
Edinburgh  Review. 

"It  is  doubtful  if  these  tales  —  antedating  history  in  their 
origin,  and  yet  fresh  with  all  the  charms  of  youth  to  all  who 
read  them  for  the  first  time  —  were  ever  before  presented  in  so 
chaste  and  popular  form."—  Golden  Rule,  Boston. 

"  The  grace  with  which  these  old  tales  of  the  mythology  are 
re-told  makes  them  as  enchanting  to  the  young  as  familiar  fairy 
tales  or  the  'Arabian  Nights.'  .  .  .  We  do  not  know  of  a  Christ- 
mas book  which  promises  more  lasting  pleasures."  —  Publishers' 
Weekly. 

"  Its  exterior  fits  it  to  adorn  the  drawing-room  table,  while  its 
contents  are  adapted  to  the  entertainment  of  the  most  cultivatec 
intelligence.  .  .  .  The  book  is  a  scholarly  production,  and  a 
welcome  addition  to  a  department  of  literature  that  is  thus  far 
quite  too  scantily  furnished."—  Tribune,  Chicago. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 
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THE  SURGEON'S  STORIES. 

By  Z.   TOPELIUS,  Professor  of  History,  University  of  Finland. 
Translated  from  the  original  Swedish,  comprising  — 

TIMES  OF  GUSTAF  ADOLF, 

TIMES  OF  BATTLE  AND  REST, 
TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII., 

TIMES  OF  FREDERICK  I., 

TIMES  OF  LINNAEUS, 

TIMES  OF  ALCHEMY 

In  cloth,  per  volume,  75  cents. 
The  same,  in  box,  per  set,  $4.50. 


These  stories  have  been  everywhere  received  with  the  greatest  favor. 
They  cover  the  most  interesting  and  exciting  periods  of  Swedish  and 
Finnish  history.  They  combine  history  and  romance,  and  the  two  are 
woven  together  in  so  skilful  and  attractive  a  manner  that  the  reader 
of  one  volume  is  rarely  satisfied  until  he  has  read  all.  Of  their  distin- 
guished author  the  Saturday  Review,  London,  says,  "  He  enjoys  the 
greatest  celebrity  among  living  Swedish  writers;"  and  R.  H.  Stoddard 
has  styled  them  "  the  most  important  and  certainly  the  most  readable 
series  of  foreign  fiction  that  has  been  translated  into  English  for  many 
years."  They  should  stand  on  the  shelves  of  every  library,  public  and 
private,  beside  the  works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

The  Graphic,  New  York,  says: 

"Topelius  is  evidently  a  great  romancer,  —  a  great  romancer  in  the 
manner  of  Walter  Scott.  At  moments  in  his  writing  there  is  positive 
inspiration,  a  truth  and  vivid  reality  that  are  startling." 

The  Sun,  Philadelphia,  says: 

"We  would  much  prefer  teaching  a  youth  Swedish  history  from  the 
novels  of  Topelius  than  from  any  book  of  strict  historical  narrative." 

The  Standard,  Chicago,  says : 

"  The  series  as  a  whole  deserves  a  place  with  the  very  best  fiction  of 
the  present  time.  The  scenery  is  new  to  most  readers;  the  historical 
period  covered  one  of  transcendent  interest ;  the  characters,  the  incidents, 
the  narrative  style  in  each  story  are  of  the  sort  to  carry  the  reader  straight 
through,  from  beginning  to  end,  unwearied,  and  ready,  as  each  volume 
closes,  to  open  the  next  in  order." 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.  C.  McCLURG   &   CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

COR.  WABASH  AVE.,  AND  MADISON  ST.,  CHICAGO 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

EDUCATION-PSYCHOLOGY 
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Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


IV I 


EC  IS  1967 


LD  21A-30?;i-6,'67 
(H2472slO)476 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


